


Ready for You

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Literature, M/M, Theatre, carpentry, made up poetry, okay it's all made up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-13 15:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11763066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: A chance meeting ten years after the war leads Duo and Trowa down an unexpected path.Birthday fic for Kangofu-CB.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



A/N: Wishing Kangofu-CB the happiest day of birth. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for letting me write you a thing!

 

A/N2: Title inspired by the HAIM song by the same name.

 

A/N3: Always, always thanks to Ro for beta reading and supporting me. You are, quite literally, the best.  I also want to thank ChronicWhimsy, who graciously gave me another set of eyes and editing on this.

 

Warnings: angst, language, sex

Pairings: 2x3

 

_ Ready for You _

 

Chapter 1

 

It was one of those spring days that made Trowa grateful for the lack of predictability in the Terran climate. The sky was azure along the horizon, peeking through the towering buildings that surrounded Trowa, but closer, overhead, the clouds that rolled along were gray and threatening. 

 

Even after all of the time he had spent on Earth, rain was still a novelty, still something that he  _ liked _ . Even if it caught him unawares.

 

Which, of course, was his own fault. He hadn’t looked at the weather forecast for the day - he rarely did - and when he left his apartment that morning, he had pulled on a simple t-shirt and the jeans that were two holes too far gone to wear to work anymore. 

 

It wasn’t his first spring in New York City, however, and he had grabbed both his coat and his sunglasses as he left the apartment for the day.

 

He wished he had grabbed his raincoat instead of the woolen overcoat, however. He was grateful for the warmth, especially with the way the wind cut through the canyons of skyscrapers, but…

 

Trowa looked up again. The clouds were definitely starting to overpower the brilliant blue of the sky.

 

He wondered if the jazz trio that usually played in the park on Saturday mornings would be forced to find shelter and cancel their impromptu concert.

 

That would be disappointing, considering that they were the only reason Trowa had bothered to get up so early.

 

As he contemplated what to do, Trowa felt the first raindrop fall on his nose.

 

He ducked his head and wiped away the rain, and decided that perhaps it was better just to head home. He had a few projects to work on around the apartment. The windowsill that needed caulking and-

 

Someone bumped into Trowa.

 

“Sorry,” Trowa said at the same time that the person, shorter by almost a full head, said the word as well.

 

Trowa stepped aside and let the person pass, catching part of the conversation they were having with a shaved-headed man.

 

“...pretentious  _ fuck. _ Telling  _ me _ that Eileen Ogg is fixated on pre-Colonial patriarchal systems when  _ he _ is from fucking  _ Wisconsin _ and couldn’t offer an unbiased critique of a Post-Terran poet to save his dirt-eating life.”

 

The shaved-headed man chuckled.

 

“Duo, did you get kicked out of class  _ again _ ?”

 

Duo.

 

_ Duo _ .

 

Trowa stopped in his tracks and turned around.

 

And caught sight of a ghost.

 

Trowa hadn’t seen him in ten years, not since Duo had rejected Une’s offer to work for the Preventers and Trowa had taken the offer, had then spent four years trying his damnedest to  _ earn _ the chance to be free before Heero Yuy had given him a brutal and entirely necessary talk on how that was one of the worst ideas Trowa had ever had and Trowa had left Preventers.

 

His hair was loose around his shoulders, shorter than Trowa remembered it. He was still slight, the curve of his nose pale and the crook of his lips darkly amused, and he was still dressed almost entirely in black.

 

“Duo?”

 

The man stopped and turned, the cocky smirk on his face freezing and then faltering before it slid away entirely.

 

“Tro- Trowa? Or, shit… It  _ is _ Trowa, right?”

 

Duo’s eyes were vivid, ultramarine dancing in a sea of pale skin and violet shadows.

 

For a moment, Trowa wondered if Duo was unsure, wondered if Duo was confused about  _ who _ he was, but the way Duo bit down on his lip and glanced towards the man at his side, the way he shifted his body, shoulders rolling and then slouching, made Trowa realize.

 

“Still Trowa.”

 

Duo nodded, and his eyes raked over Trowa’s body before rising to meet his gaze.

 

“Well fuck, Trowa.”

 

_ Well fuck, indeed _ .

 

He couldn’t tell what Duo was thinking, and he wasn’t entirely sure what  _ he _ was thinking, himself.

The shaved-headed man cleared his throat.

 

“Oh, right, yeah.” Duo chuckled and ran one hand through his hair, pushing his unruly bangs away momentarily before they fluttered back in place. He gestured with one hand to the man. “Jehan, this is, uh, an old friend of mine, Trowa. Trowa, this is Jehan, my, uh, classmate.”

 

Jehan gave Duo a look that suggested he was questioning his intelligence.

 

“Well,  _ uh _ , it’s nice to meet you, Trowa.”

 

He held out his hand just as thunder rumbled overhead.

 

Trowa shook the proffered hand once and then let it go.

 

“Nice to meet you, too.”

 

“Well, we should probably get going, Max,” Jehan said to Duo, glancing up at the sky, “or we’re going to get soaked.”

 

Duo nodded absently, his eyes still on Trowa.

 

“Yeah, Je, you go ahead and I’ll catch up with you.”

 

Jehan arched an eyebrow and looked between them. 

 

“If you’re trying to get out of the study group so you can go hook up with your ex then-”

 

“I’m  _ not _ -”

 

“We never dated.”

 

Trowa and Duo stared at each other, each a little surprised by the other’s vehemence.

 

“Okay…” Jehan drew the last syllable out and held up his hands to pacify them. “My mistake.”

 

“Look, tell everyone I’ll be there soon. I just need a few minutes.”

 

Jehan shrugged.

 

“Sure, sure. I’ll just sit there and listen to Avery talk shit about you.”

 

Duo rolled his eyes and Jehan moved along, walking past them and looking over his shoulder in curiousity.

 

“So…” Duo shoved his hands into his pockets and danced to the side to avoid getting run over by a woman in a suit.

 

“So,” Trowa repeated the word. He didn’t really know what to say.

 

Duo snorted a laugh and shook his head.

 

“This is… really fucking weird. I didn’t even know if you were alive.”

 

The words were surprisingly harsh, but then Trowa considered them. Considered the fact that  _ he _ hadn’t known if Duo was alive. Or given much thought to him.

 

It started to rain - not a light drizzle, but an immediate downpour.

 

“Of fucking  _ course _ ,” Duo muttered as they both moved to the relative shelter of the building beside them, the narrow concrete awning just barely keeping the rain away.

 

“There’s a coffee shop down the block.”

 

Trowa wasn’t sure why he offered up that information, and he certainly didn’t know what he wanted Duo’s reaction to be.

 

“Do they have good coffee or…”

 

“Remember that stuff Howard had on  _ Peacemillion _ ?”

 

“That he said they grew on Mt. Kilimanjaro?”

 

Trowa nodded.

 

“They serve that at this place.”

 

Duo’s eyes widened.

 

“No shit?”

 

“No shit.”

 

Duo chewed his lower lip and looked past Trowa at the rain.

 

“When you say it’s down the block…”

 

“Three shops back - fifty, maybe sixty feet.”

 

Duo’s lips twitched, but then he shrugged.

 

“Yeah, okay. Lead the way. Maybe you’ll block some of the rain.”

 

It was clear that Trowa did very little to block  _ any _ of the rain. When he held the door to the coffee shop open, Duo grimaced and actually wrung out his hair before stepping inside.

 

Their shoes squelched as they made their way across the shop to stand in line and place their orders.

 

“It’s the Tanzanian Pearberry,” Trowa offered as Duo stepped up to the front of the line.

 

Duo glanced over his shoulder and up at Trowa.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Duo ordered a large cup of the coffee, hesitated, and ordered a scone as well.

 

Trowa followed and copied the order exactly.

 

They moved to the side to collect their coffees and scones, and then Trowa showed Duo where the creamer and sugar were kept.

 

He couldn’t remember how Duo had taken his coffee all those years ago, but he wasn’t surprised when Duo skipped the dairy creamers and used the powdered, almond creamer. Trowa dumped a liberal amount of dairy creamer into his own cup before indicating that Duo should lead them to a table.

 

Duo picked out a table in the corner, away from the customer traffic, situated closer to the back than the front of the shop, and Trowa took off his jacket and settled his chair against the wall gratefully.

 

They drank their coffee in silence, and Trowa was vividly reminded of one night on  _ Peacemillion _ , late into the sleep cycle, when he and Duo had been the only ones in the mess hall. They had sat at separate tables then, each staring off into the darkness of space beyond the viewports, lost in their own heads. Duo had left first, passing by Trowa and hesitating before reaching out and squeezing his shoulder.

 

“‘S a good look on you.”

 

Duo’s voice drew Trowa out of the memory, the phantom pressure of Duo’s hand on his shoulder dissolving.

 

“What?”

 

Duo lifted two fingers and traced over the smooth skin around his own lips.

 

“Your beard thing. I mean, it doesn’t matter what I think, but I’m just saying… it’s a good look on you.”

 

Trowa reflexively reached up to touch the stubble that he just hadn’t cared to shave. He had started to let it grow out in February, had spent most of March telling himself he would shave the next morning, and now, in the middle of April, had finally decided to hell with it.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Trowa took another sip of his coffee and struggled to come up with something to say. He had  _ never _ been particularly comfortable or competent in social situations. That this was an unnervingly awkward social situation with a man he hadn’t seen or even thought much about in a  _ decade _ \- a man who had known Trowa during some of the darkest and most painful parts of his life - was not inspiring Trowa to become a witty conversationalist.

 

“You cut your hair.”

 

Duo, mid-sip, looked over at Trowa and then choked on his coffee.

 

“Ugh, gah, uh. Sorry.” Duo coughed again, and then cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

 

Trowa saw Duo’s lips twitch, saw the gleam of humor in his eyes, and he flushed with the realization that Duo was amused at  _ his _ expense.

 

He clenched his hand around the paper coffee cup and willed himself not to care.

 

“Wait, wait.” Duo reached across the table, as if he was going to touch Trowa. He stopped himself, however, and dropped his hand to the table, fingers stretched out between them.

 

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. I just… This is fucking weird, Trowa! Here we are, ten years later, and all we can think of talking about are beards and haircuts? Tell me that’s not, like, a little funny?”

 

Put that way…

 

“We never really talked much, back then.”

 

Duo nodded and took another sip of coffee.

 

“Yeah, plus you had that habit of punching me in the gut. So…”

 

“It was  _ one _ time,” Trowa grumbled, but he felt his lips tug upwards in reaction to Duo’s own grin.

 

“Left a lasting impression,” Duo insisted, and he leaned back in his chair to rub his flat belly.

 

Trowa rolled his eyes at the gesture and the look of remembered pain on Duo’s face.

 

“That wasn’t even the worst thing I did to you,” he muttered, and instantly regretted it.

 

Duo’s face froze, but then he shrugged and reached for his scone. Trowa watched the other man break a piece off and then thoughtfully chew it.

 

“What are you up to these days?” Duo asked after he swallowed. 

 

“Work.”

 

The one word answer had Duo lifting both eyebrows.

 

“Wow. That sounds intensely exciting.” He frowned, and then let out a long, frustrated sigh. “ _ Please _ don’t tell me you’re still… You cannot seriously still be working for  _ Une _ ?” Duo hissed the name as if it were a curse.

 

“No, of course not. I left six years ago.”

 

“Good.  _ Good _ .” 

 

Duo used his thumb to crush a few scone crumbles back into dough. He was scowling, and Trowa wondered at the emphatic disdain for Une and, presumably, the Preventers organization.

 

“You’re a student?” Trowa tried to reciprocate Duo’s attempt at conversation.

 

“Yeah. Graduate work at Columbia.”

 

Trowa nodded.

 

Duo rolled his eyes.

 

“I study post-Terran lit, but I dabble in pre-colonial philosophy.”

 

Duo looked at Trowa expectantly.

 

“That’s…” Trowa really had no idea what to say. He had never pictured Duo Maxwell as the type to attend university lectures - or lectures of  _ any _ kind. He didn’t think that Duo would appreciate him saying that, however. 

 

Duo made a gesture with his hand.

 

“This is where you tell me what kind of work you do… You know, treat it like a date or something. I tell you about me, you tell me about you…”

 

Trowa didn’t date. At least, not intentionally. There had been a few setups that he hadn’t been able to get out of, a few ‘favors’ for friends who needed to appease younger brothers or sisters. Those had, now that he thought about it, gone about as pleasantly as  _ this _ was going.

 

“I’m a carpenter.”

 

“Yeah? What do you build… Like houses or… buildings?”

 

“Finish carpentry - mostly furniture.”

 

“Wow. That’s…”

 

Trowa wasn’t at all relieved to have made Duo as speechless as Duo made him.

 

Deciding that, all in all, this was a mistake and getting soaked while he walked back to his apartment wouldn’t be  _ more _ painful, Trowa tossed back the last of his coffee.

 

Duo watched as he wrapped up the scone and slipped it into a coat pocket, but made no move to stop him.

 

When Trowa stood up, however, Duo finally moved, reaching out before once again aborting the gesture.

 

“Look, Trowa, I’m sorry. It’s just… seeing  _ you _ , seeing you  _ here _ \- it’s crazy. There’s just… there’s a lot of shit between us, or behind us, or something.”

 

Trowa looked down at Duo’s outstretched hand, at the fingers splayed wide. Duo had always been pale, his hands even more so. Trowa remembered watching Duo code something once, his fingers flying across the keyboard, so swift and white they had been mesmerizing.

 

His own fingers were so different, rough and tanned where he imagined Duo’s were smooth and fair. 

 

“What do you want from me?” Trowa finally asked. He didn’t like asking the question, didn’t like not already knowing the answer. 

 

Duo sighed.

 

“I dunno. I guess… I guess I just wanted to know how you are? Know  _ who _ you are?”

 

“I’m fine, and you already know me.”

 

Duo snorted.

 

“Like hell I do. Look, why don’t we just… Hell, I don’t know, try to be friends or something? I mean, we live in the same city! On the same planet! What are the odds of that?”

 

“We were grounded after the wars. Une would never risk letting us go back to the colonies.”

 

Duo rolled his eyes.

 

“Yeah, okay, but it’s a big planet. I’m just saying… friends?”

 

“You don’t already have friends?” The Duo he remembered was brash and belligerent, but he had been charming when he wanted to be. Trowa doubted he was lacking for friends.

 

“Well sure, but none of them are carpenters.”

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow at Duo’s smirk, at the uncertainty and sincerity of the expression.

 

“You want to do this  _ again _ ?” Trowa gestured at the table, at the complete lack of conversation they had just struggled through.

 

“Fuck no. The coffee was great, and I’m definitely coming back here again. But, I dunno, maybe we could see a movie or go to a concert or something? Just… hang out?”

 

Trowa thought of the jazz trio he watched in the park on Saturday mornings. He wondered what Duo would think of them. The idea intrigued him so much that he shrugged.

 

Duo’s smirk grew.

 

“Yeah? Cool. Um… mind giving me your number?”

 

Duo pulled out his phone and looked up at Trowa.

 

It was, Trowa realized, a courtesy. If Duo really wanted to track him down, he could have done so easily, and Trowa could do the same. They might be civilians, or as close to civilians as they were ever likely to get, but Trowa was under no illusions as to what Duo Maxwell was still capable of.

 

He gave Duo his phone number, watching his fingers fly as he typed it in. He wondered if Duo missed piloting.

 

A jittery, cacophonous melody exploded from Trowa’s back pocket. 

 

With a scowl, he reached for the phone and made a mental note to change the ringtone back from whatever monstrosity Cathy had put on when she had last visited. It was a note he had made for himself weekly for the last three months.

 

He looked at the unfamiliar, local number on the screen.

 

“That’s me,” Duo said. “In case you want to get in touch.”

 

Trowa nodded absently as he silenced the phone.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Right. Well, I really do have to go to this study group. We’ve got exams coming up in a few weeks, and everyone’s on edge…”

 

Duo stood up.

 

“It was really good to see you, Trowa.”

 

He held out his hand and, after a moment of hesitation, Trowa met it with his own.

 

As he had suspected, Duo’s hand was smooth, his fingers gracefully curving around the callused skin of Trowa’s palm. He could feel the scrape of cuts and splinters move against Duo. 

 

He thought back to that night on  _ Peacemillion _ again. Duo had always had smooth skin. 

 

“I’ll give you a ring, okay?” Duo squeezed his hand before releasing it.

 

Trowa found himself nodding and stepping back.

 

At the door to the coffee shop, Duo paused and looked back.

 

He waved at Trowa, a jaunty salute that Trowa found himself cautiously returning.

 

-o-

 

TBC

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wishing Kangofu-CB the happiest day of birth. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for letting me write you a thing!

 

A/N2: Title inspired by the HAIM song by the same name.

 

A/N3: Always, always thanks to Ro for beta reading and supporting me. You are, quite literally, the best.  I also want to thank ChronicWhimsy, who graciously gave me another set of eyes and editing on this.

 

A/N4: Look, in the future I can hope we have all switched to metric like rational beings. But the reality is that I grew up on the Imperial system and I cannot be bothered to do all of the conversions from inches/feet to meters, especially with Trowa as a carpenter. I’m sorry.

 

Warnings: angst, language, sex

Pairings: 2x3

 

_ Ready for You _

 

Chapter 2

  
  


Trowa realized he was overdressed as soon as he walked into the theatre.

 

It was a small space - Trowa wondered if there was a term for a  _ theatre _ no bigger than a postage stamp. It looked like the room - seven flights of stairs up in a pre-colonial building that had seen better centuries and had  _ somehow _ managed to avoid installing an elevator or, it was clear, air conditioning - was no bigger than Trowa’s admittedly large-ish apartment. The ceiling was lower than he had expected - maybe twelve feet high - and the entire room, walls and ceiling and floor, was painted black. 

 

It made the room seem even smaller, and narrow. It felt a  _ lot _ like a communal coffin, especially with so many people crammed into the small space.

 

The atmosphere of the room was anything but funereal, however. There were maybe sixty or seventy people crammed into the room, and all were talking and laughing together, waving their programs in a desperate attempt to cool off, leaning over chairs and aisles to hug or kiss.

 

It was riotous. And casual. So painfully casual. There were people in tanktops, people in jeans that even Trowa would have thrown away rather than wear, people in dresses that in no way would be appropriate attire for a  _ night at the theatre _ . Duo had texted him just two days ago, after a week of silence.

 

**What are your opinions on post-Terran playwrights?**

 

Trowa had stared at the text for most of the day, pulling out his phone and looking at it again and again, trying to decipher just what the hell Duo was talking about.

 

**I don’t have any** **_._ **

 

Duo’s response had been immediate.

 

**Excellent. Meet me at the Malmoritte Theatre Wednesday night at 7:30.**

And that had been it - no other texts, no hint at what Trowa could expect, no question of if he  _ wanted _ to develop opinions on post-Terran playwrights.

 

Trowa, standing in the Malmoritte Theatre on Wednesday night, in his best trousers, his stiffest button-up shirt, and the only blazer he owned, loosened his tie and felt like an absolute idiot.

 

Maybe, he realized, that had been the point. 

 

Maybe this was all some elaborate - well, not very elaborate - practical joke that Duo was playing on him. A poor attempt to get revenge for all the things Trowa had done to him back in the war? Or just Duo Maxwell having a laugh because he could?

 

Trowa forced his tense shoulders to relax, forced the hand holding the program to smooth it out from the nearly crumpled mess he had made of it.

 

He could still leave. He  _ should _ leave.

 

As he turned to do so, however, he heard his name.

 

“Trowa! Hey, Tro!”

 

Shouting, across a crowded room. 

 

Trowa’s shoulders tensed again, drawing up to nearly his ears, and he forced himself not to reach for a weapon that wasn’t even there. He turned around and caught sight of Duo.

 

He was sitting in the back row of the theatre, wearing a black t-shirt, his hair tied back in a loose tail, and he was waving at Trowa.

 

He could still leave.

 

Duo was smirking again, but it faltered when Trowa remained standing, hesitating. The arm he held aloft waved slower and slower, and then stopped. Trowa watched it start to slump downwards.

 

Someone tapped his shoulder, and he turned around again to see a woman in black.

 

“Sir, the show is about to start. Can I help you find your seat?”

 

“No. I know where it is.”

 

He could still leave.

 

Instead, he made his way through the far-too-many people for fire code regulations towards the back row of the theatre, excused himself as he shifted his way down the line of people, and then sat down beside Duo Maxwell.

 

The other man was stiff, his body language guarded, the grin on his face forced.

 

Trowa wasn’t sure what to say, and Duo didn’t seem inclined to speak.

 

Even when the lights dimmed a moment later, and the chatter of the crowd around them faded to whispers, Trowa wasn’t able to relax.

 

He sat in his chair, already an uncomfortable, slightly-warmed metal thing with no cushion, and held himself as still as possible while the theatre was plunged into darkness.

 

The lights came up on a single figure on the stage.

 

He was sitting on a box, dressed entirely in black except for a pair of giant white wings made out of… bandages.

 

And then he started to sing.

 

Trowa couldn’t follow all of the words - the lyrics were in some bizarre creole of Terran English, Colonial Mandarin and…  _ German _ ? He knew all three languages, but the combination of them, as well as poor acoustics and a singing voice that Trowa could only politely describe to himself as  _ horribly _ off-pitch, meant that Trowa was only getting every second or fifth word.

 

It wasn’t until a second actor walked out onstage that he realized just what he was watching.

 

A woman, blue dress flowing around her as she spun in circles towards the man, wore her long blonde hair loose around her shoulders. Except for two thin braids that held it back from her face, and a straight line of bangs across her forehead.

 

She threw herself at the man, who caught her gracefully and then, still singing, dropped her onto the ground.

 

Around them, the audience laughed, but Duo remained silent and Trowa could only stare.

 

The woman picked herself up again, threw herself at the man yet again - this time leaping into the air - and once again, he caught her. And once again, he dropped her.

 

She stood up to throw herself at the man once again, but was stopped by the arrival of a third actor.

 

A man, dressed in a long black cassock, his face shadowed by a hood and a large, ornate gold cross dangling from his neck, strode onstage, guns in each hand, and proceeded to shoot the winged man.

 

Trowa watched in horrified disgust as the winged man pretended to be hit, still singing as his body writhed with the impact of a ridiculous number of bullets.

 

He fell to the ground, and the woman launched herself at his prone body.

 

And once again, he caught her, holding her aloft for a moment before  _ throwing _ her onto the stage floor.

 

The figure in black started to sing.

 

Trowa turned to Duo.

 

“Don’t worry, it gets so much worse,” Duo said in an undertone, not even looking at Trowa.

 

Trowa wasn’t sure  _ how _ it could get worse.

 

-o-

 

It did, as Duo had predicted - or perhaps, already knew - get  _ so _ much worse.

 

By the time the lights went out on a scene of splayed bodies, as the woman in blue stood alone onstage singing - Trowa  _ guessed _ \- about the purity of death and violence as the midwife to love - Trowa wasn’t sure  _ what the hell _ he had just spent two and a half  _ hours _ watching.

 

The lights came up again, and all around them, people stood up to clap and cheer.

 

Trowa gratefully followed Duo’s lead and remained seated, his hands folded in his lap.

 

The actors stood up from their death positions, and together, the company of fifteen actors bowed. And bowed. And  _ bowed _ .

 

Finally, the applause died down to a few scattered claps, and the lights above the audience came on.

 

Trowa and Duo remained seated while the audience filed out.

 

He expected Duo to turn to him and offer an explanation, and maybe Duo  _ would _ have, but a figure cut through the retreating audience and bounded towards them.

 

It was a woman, petite and dark haired, with delicate features and a plethora of tattoos that her short floral dress only partially obscured.

 

“I can’t believe you came!”

 

She was grinning, and threw her arms around Duo. Still seated, Duo awkwardly patted her back with one hand. 

 

“Of course I came. Had to see your opening night.”

 

The woman released him with a snort of laughter.

 

“Right. Whatever. You came because you want to be able to tell Avery just how awful his play is in excruciating detail.”

 

Duo smirked, genuine mirth and animosity curving the expression into one that Trowa was intimately familiar with.

 

The woman turned to Trowa and arched an eyebrow.

 

“Are you Max’s newest-”

 

“He’s a friend,” Duo hastily interrupted. “Old friend. Trowa, this is Ines. Ines, this is Trowa. Ines had the dubious honor of directing this clusterfuck.”

 

Ines rolled her eyes, but didn’t seem in the least offended by Duo’s estimation of her work. She held out her hand and Trowa shook it.

 

“Nice to meet you. Please, please don’t hold what you just watched against me.”

 

Trowa released her hand and arched an eyebrow.

 

“Assignment for her Master’s degree - she had to direct this garbage that Avery wrote.”

 

“Avery from your study group?”

 

Duo shuddered.

 

“Yeah. That one. Thank fuck there’s just the one. He’s working on his creative writing Master’s degree, and taking Post-Terran Diaspora Narrative for shits and giggles.”

 

“He’s not very good,” Trowa said without thinking.

 

Ines stared at him with wide eyes, and then burst out laughing.

 

“I  _ like _ this one, Max! Bring him to the party!”

 

Trowa looked over at Duo, whose face was trapped between a smirk and a frown.

 

“I dunno, Ines. Trowa and I weren’t really planning on-”

 

“Oh, come  _ on _ ! There’s free drinks - well, not free. Free for  _ you, _ but Avery’s shelling out for the bar. Don’t you  _ want _ to make him pay for you to get disgustingly drunk?”

 

Duo still looked torn, and he shot Trowa a questioning glance.

 

Two and a half hours ago, Trowa would have gladly said  _ no _ and just gone home, deleted Duo’s number from his phone, and tried to forget running into him after all these years.

 

But  _ now _ , after having sat through  _ that _ … Trowa felt he was owed a free drink. Or a dozen free drinks.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

Duo rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that Trowa didn’t strain to hear.

 

Ines grinned and, when Trowa stood up, reached out for his arm and looped her arm through his.

 

“Good. You can tell me all sorts of embarrassing stories about Max.”

 

Duo snorted and stood up. He led the way down the aisle, and Trowa and Ines followed.

 

“Is there any other kind?” Duo asked, the self-deprecating comment ringing more hollow than humorous to Trowa.

 

“Well, if he’s an  _ old _ friend, then I’m sure he’s got stories I’ve never heard!” She leaned in to Trowa. “Did you know he was  _ the _ Duo Maxwell? The Gundam Pilot?”

 

Ahead of them, Duo’s shoulders stiffened. He looked over his shoulder at Trowa, a casual glance that nevertheless managed to convey a hell of a lot.

 

No one here had any idea who Trowa was - the perk of not having his face and name splashed all over the Earthsphere on wanted posters or vid reels - and Duo had no intention of telling anyone  _ who _ Trowa was.

 

Trowa forced himself to relax.

 

“He never mentioned it,” Trowa said cautiously.

 

Ines rolled her eyes.

 

“Of course he didn’t. He’s all  _ humble _ and-”

 

“It’s not humility,” Duo interrupted her. “It’s just not worth talking about.”

 

“Not worth-  _ Max _ ! What you did for humanity was-”

 

“Please tell me it wasn’t like  _ that _ ,” Trowa was the one to interrupt her this time. He jerked his finger back towards the stage.

 

Duo gave a strained laugh and shook his head.

 

“Oh, hell no. So much less singing.”

 

Ines snorted a laugh, but she mercifully let the subject drop as they made their way out of the theatre and back down all of those stairs.

 

The party was being held at the bar across the street, and after surviving a homicidal taxi driver, they entered the bar.

 

Which immediately erupted in applause.

 

Trowa wondered if this was about Duo - more about him being a former Gundam Pilot - and he saw Duo once again tense up, saw him glance towards the door and his fingers curl into fists by his sides.

 

But then Ines stepped away from Trowa and held her hands up.

 

“Thank you, thank you, everyone! I’m so glad you could be here tonight! But really, we should be applauding the playwright. Avery! Avery, you dick, where are you?”

 

There were more cheers and another round of applause as a tall, broad-shouldered man with a mess of curly dark hair piled on his head stepped forward. He was the  _ only _ person dressed more formally than Trowa - in a three piece suit and precisely tied bowtie.

 

He accepted the accolades with a smirk that reminded Trowa of a man too short-sighted to properly estimate his own value.

 

Eventually, he waved his hands to gesture for silence.

 

“Thank you, thank you, everyone! As you all know, this little project has been a labor of love that I’ve sweated and bled over for almost two years. But finally, finally, I’m beyond happy to share this story with all of you.  _ Our _ story - the origin of the future we live in, the culmination of humanity’s actions. I hope that my attempts did it  _ some _ justice.”

 

There was more cheering. Trowa noticed that Ines and several others were silent, half-heartedly clapping. Jehan, the shaved-headed man from last week, was standing near the bar. He lifted a nearly empty glass in Trowa’s direction.

 

“Thank you,  _ thank _ you,” Avery said again. “Now, let’s see - how about a critique from our resident expert on The Last Great War?”

 

Trowa wondered who Avery was talking about, but almost immediately, he realized.

 

He felt bile rise in his own throat as he looked over at Duo.

 

His clenched fists were so white-knuckled Trowa wondered if he was going to dislocate something.

 

_ The Last Great War _ . 

 

Trowa had a feeling that Treize Khushrenada would have loved that. He hated it. He hated even more that Avery had used the moniker as the title for his play.

 

Duo forced a casual shrug, and offered up a smirk that was very nearly a sneer.

 

“Oh, you know me, Avery, my tastes run in a different direction. Besides, my field isn’t-”

 

“Duo, Duo.” Avery walked over and threw his arm around the shorter man, pulling him close.

 

Trowa wondered if he was about to watch Duo murder someone in public.

 

He looked around, eased closer to the exit, and tried to put himself in a position where he could assist.

 

“Come on. Even if you can’t give me a proper analysis, how did it  _ feel _ , huh? Bring back old times? Capture the  _ essence _ of what it meant to save humanity? Come on!”

 

Duo looked directly at Trowa, and Trowa could acutely feel the other man’s absolute misery.

 

Trowa had the unwelcome and thoroughly uncomfortable urge to help him.

 

“It was… a lot to take in. It’s a big story, and there was a lot going on.” Duo shrugged again, the movement faltering with the weight of Avery’s arm across his shoulders. “You tried to get the feel for all of that.”

 

It was clear that Avery wanted more. It was equally clear, at least to Trowa, that Duo wasn’t going to say  _ anything _ else.

 

Avery opened his mouth, but Ines stepped forward again.

 

“Hey, didn’t I hear there was an open bar? I think the playwright needs to get his director a drink to celebrate this!”

 

Avery rolled his eyes, but finally released Duo and moved toward Ines.

 

The rest of the bar’s occupants turned towards each other, shifting into groups, and the volume of conversation quickly rose.

 

Duo shoved his hands into his pockets and scowled at Avery’s back.

 

Trowa realized that Duo really,  _ really _ hadn’t wanted to come to the bar after the show - and that the scene that had just played out was likely why.

 

He felt guilty, which wasn’t a new feeling in regards to Duo. Still, he had almost forgotten what it felt like to betray Duo.

 

“You want a drink? I could sure as hell use one,” Duo spoke up.

 

Trowa nodded absently, thinking about the way Duo had doubled over in pain, his fingers scrabbling against Trowa’s as he took the vid projector from him.

 

Duo moved towards the bar, as far from where Avery and Ines were as possible, and gestured for the bartender.

 

A moment later, he made his way back to Trowa, two nearly overflowing pilsner glasses in hand.

 

“Hope you like pale ale,” was all Duo said as he passed a glass to Trowa.

 

Trowa shrugged one shoulder and accepted the glass.

 

Duo raised his own in a mock salute.

 

“Here’s to  _ The Last Great War _ .”

 

Trowa didn’t know if Duo was referencing the play or the actual event. It didn’t really matter.

 

He took a sip from his glass. It was palatable.

 

“So these are your friends.”

 

Duo snorted, but then he looked around the room.

 

“Yeah. Most of them. Some of them.”

 

Trowa wondered how many of them were like Avery. Most of the people in the room were obviously Terran - taller, tanner, broader than Duo and, unless Trowa was mistaken, the two other colonials present. He wondered what it was like for Duo, who had spent his entire life in the colonies before Operation Meteor, to be grounded with the same people he had grown up seeing as the enemy.

 

“Most of them are okay,” Duo mumbled into his drink before taking another sip.

 

Trowa drank his own beer and continued to look around the room. He was sure that it was partly because of the bar’s location - midtown as opposed to uptown where he lived and worked - but the crowd was… entirely different than the sort who hung out at the bars near his apartment. The conversation, too, was nothing like what he overheard in the dingy bars where people muttered darkly about politics and colonial delusions of equality. There was none of the simmering rage or danger in  _ this _ bar. 

 

A mild, drunken argument about the symbolism of blue and Relena’s character as a Madonna figure or that of Pandora was about as heated as these people appeared to get.

 

“So… build any interesting furniture this week?”

 

Trowa gave him a look, but Duo was gazing across the bar at Avery,  holding court and smirking while he gestured his way through a story that Trowa was confident revolved around Avery himself.

 

“It’s plywood week. I’ve been teaching the apprentices how to laminate birch.”

 

Duo frowned and turned towards him.

 

“Plywood week? What - you  _ make _ plywood?”

 

Trowa considered it a small, personal victory to pull Duo’s attention.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Of course. Right. Because that’s not like… How do you even  _ make _ plywood?”

 

Trowa smirked at the genuine bafflement and curiosity in Duo’s face and voice.

 

“The usual way. Wood, heat, glue, weight. Saws.”

 

Duo’s eyes narrowed at Trowa’s purposefully vague response.

 

“Right, okay. But  _ how _ -”

 

“So, Trowa, what did  _ you _ think of Avery’s little attempt at mediocrity?”

 

It was Jehan, sidling up to them with a new, full glass in hand and a glazed look in his eyes.

 

Trowa wished  _ he _ was already drunk.

 

Duo sighed and took a too-large sip from his drink. He coughed a little, and Jehan pounded him on the back.

 

Trowa ignored the glare the two men exchanged.

 

“I don’t think he managed to achieve mediocrity,” Trowa replied.

 

Jehan’s face lit up, while Duo rolled his eyes.

 

“Please,  _ please _ tell him that when he comes over here to torture Max more.”

 

Trowa frowned and looked down at Duo.

 

“Why is he going to torture Duo more?”

 

Jehan gave Trowa a look, as if the answer to that question was obvious, and Duo avoided his eyes.

 

“Anyway, I’m glad Max’s dragging you to these things. It certainly gives  _ some _ of us something to enjoy.”

 

Jehan’s eyes flicked over Trowa’s clothes and he smirked.

 

“I like the tie.” He reached out and playfully tugged on the end of it.

 

He wasn’t unattractive, and in other circumstances, Trowa would have let Jehan pursue his flirting to the natural conclusion. But tonight, with Duo at his side so tense and Trowa… so out of his own depth, it was just one more unsettling thing.

 

“I’m overdressed.”

 

Jehan shrugged and grinned.

 

“There’s an easy remedy for that.”

 

“Okay, Je, for fuck’s sake,” Duo growled, and batted his hand away from Trowa’s chest. “If he’s interested, he’ll let you know, but you don’t have to start sucking him off in public.”

 

Jehan turned to Duo with arched brows.

 

“You said he wasn’t your ex, Max.”

 

“He’s not,” Duo sighed.

 

Jehan looked up at Trowa, who was just as baffled by Duo’s irritation as Jehan was. He shrugged.

 

“Ahhh. Well, you just needed to  _ say _ this was a date,  _ amemao _ .”

 

Duo glared at Jehan, but he didn’t correct him.

 

Jehan smirked, and then winked up at Trowa.

 

“Let me know if he doesn’t follow through.  _ Again _ . I always do.”

 

He walked away, leaving Duo and Trowa standing there with nearly empty beer glasses and Trowa realizing he had  _ zero _ idea of what he had gotten himself into.

 

“Ugh. Sorry. This whole night is a fucking disaster.” Duo reached out and gestured for Trowa’s glass. “Let me get you another beer. I swear if we get drunk enough none of this will matter.”

 

Trowa held onto his glass.

 

“Is this a date?”

 

“What?” Duo looked up at him, eyebrows drawn together in a frown, cheeks flushed. “No, I mean- No. Of course it’s not a date. I just… What am I going to tell Jehan? Go away, please, I’m trying to reconnect with my buddy from my days of youthful terrorism and you’re fucking it up?”

 

Trowa shrugged. 

 

“He seems like a direct kind of guy. That might have worked.”

 

Duo rolled his eyes.

 

“Sure, except  _ then _ he’s gonna know you were- Look, I’m sorry. I knew this was going to be weird, but this is a  _ lot _ more weird than I counted on.”

 

Trowa drained his glass, but instead of giving it to Duo, he reached out and took Duo’s from him.

 

“Let me pick the beer this time.”

 

Duo surrendered the glass, and Trowa took them to the bar.

 

It took longer for  _ him _ to get the attention of the bartender, and as he waited, he looked over to see people slowly gravitate towards Duo - the man and woman Trowa had pegged as colonials, a few of the Terrans who had been listening to Avery eagerly, Ines again.

 

By the time Trowa  _ finally _ made his way back to Duo’s side, amber ales in hand, he had to shoulder his way through the crowd.

 

Duo accepted the beer with a grateful smile. 

 

“... _ then _ you have to consider the origin of the L2 colonization scheme,” the colonial man was saying.

 

Duo nodded in agreement, as did the colonial woman, but one of the Terrans shook her head.

 

“I hear what you’re saying, but in reality, the colonial diaspora narratives are no different than the narratives of  _ any _ diaspora. Look at the Irish and the canon of-”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the colonial woman held up a hand. “You can’t possibly compare the pre-colonial Irish immigration patterns and the resulting literature to L2.”

 

“Why not? They share the same foundational culture.”

 

Duo snorted.

 

“Sure. But the L2 cluster was built with penal labor and settlement was forced relocation.” His voice was casual, but Trowa had heard Duo’s voice casual before.

 

“As if the Irish had a lot of  _ choice _ when they were starving by the millions.”

 

“They had a choice of  _ where _ to go. Political prisoners shipped from one gulag to the next and then plopped down on a poorly-shielded hunk of metal in space is a hell of a lot different than a family stepping off a boat in old America.”

 

There was a tense moment, as the Terrans and colonials glared at each other.

 

“Hey, have any of you been following the protest poetry scene out of L3 these days?” It was Ines, and Trowa had the feeling she played the role of peacekeeper frequently.

 

“No,” Duo said with an obvious effort to relax. He sipped from his beer and then looked up at Trowa. “Have you?”

 

He didn’t know if Duo was making a dig or not.

 

“My sister saw some of Valkyries performances a few months ago.”

 

“What did she think?” Ines asked.

 

Trowa found himself the unexpected center of attention, and he tried to recount Cathy’s opinions on the Valkyries. She had enjoyed the performances of the five female poets, who wove different poems together as joint performances, incorporating media presentations that, in Cathy’s words, were devastatingly haunting.

 

He was able to answer most of their questions - about the performances, about the riots after, about the trials. In addition to Cathy’s accounts, he  _ had _ followed the news himself, unable to keep from looking into the state of affairs in the L3 cluster. The entire region had been simmering with proto-rebellious groups since the fall of the Barton Foundation and the resultant power vacuum. He had been stationed there, doing undercover work for Une, when he was still with the Preventers. It was hard to walk away entirely, and impossible to pretend that the region wasn’t ripe for conflict.

 

It turned from Trowa reporting events to the group having a discussion, debating the merits of the Valkyries style and the reaction of the colonial government. Trowa was surprised to find himself interjecting a few thoughts, was even more surprised when Duo agreed with him more often than not.

 

Two beers later, and the group had thinned out to just Duo, Ines, the colonial woman - Alice, two Terran men - Dominic and Sven, and Trowa. They had commandeered a table and were in the middle of discussing some L1 novelist who Trowa had, by strange coincidence and too much time spent at the library, read, when Avery approached their table.

 

He had a chair in one hand and a drink in the other. Without asking or hesitating, he shoved the chair between Duo and Trowa and sat down.

 

No one at the table looked particularly happy with his presence. 

 

“So, who’s your new friend?” Avery asked Duo, glancing at Trowa, assessing him.

 

Trowa couldn’t help but snort in amusement at Avery’s attempt to intimidate him. He took another sip of his beer.

 

Duo’s lips twitched at Trowa’s reaction.

 

“He’s an old friend,” Duo corrected, but didn’t elaborate.

 

Avery looked him over again, but then apparently dismissed him and turned his full attention to Duo.

 

“Well, aren’t you going to congratulate me on the show?”

 

Duo rolled his eyes.

 

“Yeah, sorry. Congrats.” Duo tipped his glass in Ines’s direction. “You were lucky to have Ines direct it, too. She did what she could with it.”

 

“Think it’s time for another round,” Sven said. He, Dominic and Alice retreated with no effort to be discreet about the fact that they were escaping.

 

Trowa wished he could join them.

 

Avery’s hand tightened on his glass, but then he forced a laugh and slung his arm around the back of Duo’s chair.

 

“Oh, Duo, you’re still upset, aren’t you?”

 

Avery squeezed Duo’s shoulder, fingers digging into his t-shirt, and Duo glared down at the table in front of him.

 

“What’s there to be upset about?” Duo asked through gritted teeth.

 

“Exactly!” Avery nodded enthusiastically. “This story - it’s bigger than you. It’s bigger than  _ all _ of us. And it needs to be told.”

 

“Does it?” Duo murmured.

 

Trowa found himself in the curious position of agreeing with Avery that it was a story that needed to be told, and yet he disliked the man and his  _ play _ so intensely that he wanted to take Duo’s side in this.

 

“You just don’t like the  _ way _ it was told,” Avery argued.

 

Duo gave the Terran a look, but instead of answering, he took another sip of his beer.

 

“What’s that old saying, eh? You live long enough and you see yourself turn from hero to villain? Well, that’ll happen, Duo.”

 

It was such a paltry sentiment, delivered so insincerely, that Trowa had to force himself to keep his mouth shut and his hands to himself.

 

The play had undoubtedly cast Duo as a villain, had portrayed him as maniacal and without any moral compass. He had been very far from the boy that Trowa had fought alongside.  _ All _ of the characters in Avery’s play had been dramatically, disappointingly different than the real players.

 

Trowa wondered if Duo’s antagonism towards Avery had resulted in such an unflattering characterization of him, or if Avery’s opinions of Duo’s actions had shaped Duo’s reaction to him.

 

“Artaud said ‘Poetry is a dissociating and anarchic force which through analogy, associations and imagery thrives on the destruction of known relationships.’ I thought  _ you _ , of all people, Duo, would appreciate that. We  _ need _ to look at the underside of this glorious conflict and really explore what it means to survive it.”

 

Avery still had his hand on Duo’s shoulder, was rubbing circles into his arm while Duo just  _ sat there _ . Across the table, Ines looked helpless, and Trowa had the feeling that this was a scene that had played out more than once.

 

“I think there’s a different Artaud quote that might be more appropriate,” Trowa heard himself say.

 

Avery looked over at him skeptically, while Duo continued to glare at the table in front of him.

 

“Oh?” Ines asked.

 

“‘All writing is garbage. People who come out of nowhere to try and put into words any part of what goes on in their minds are pigs.”

 

Ines choked on a laugh, and Avery’s gaze turned narrow and furious.

 

Trowa tossed back the last of his beer.

 

“I have to be at work early in the morning,” he said to Duo. “Do you want to get out of here?”

 

There was a moment where it looked like Duo was going to have to physically push Avery away from him, but then Avery dropped his arm and Duo stood up.

 

Trowa followed suit and nodded at Ines.

 

“It was good to meet you.”

 

“Likewise. I hope we see you around, Trowa.”

 

“Enjoy the rest of your  _ date _ ,” Avery muttered.

 

Duo didn’t offer up a correction or any farewells, and Trowa followed him from the bar and onto the street.

 

It was cool, the wind ruffling Duo’s hair as he walked ahead of Trowa, his pace furious.

 

Trowa followed him, his long legs meaning he could almost keep even with Duo without too much effort.

 

They had walked several blocks before Duo stopped and turned.

 

“I have no fucking idea where I’m even going,” he muttered.

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

 

“I live in Harlem. I have no fucking clue where anything is in Greenwich Village.”

 

“How did you get here?”

 

“Split a cab with Jehan. We were over at his place in Turtle Bay.”

 

Trowa nodded. He was surprised to learn that Duo lived so close to him. Trowa, in Morningside Heights, likely only lived a few minutes south of him.

 

“We can take the A train; there’s an entrance on Fourth Street.”

 

Duo sighed and nodded. He looked around, orientated himself, and started walking in the right direction. 

 

He wasn’t walking as fast now, and Trowa cautiously matched his pace.

 

“Sorry. Just- I’m fucking sorry about tonight. That was such a… such a colossally bad idea.”

 

Trowa couldn’t offer up much consolation. The play had been atrocious, and while he had found it surprisingly easy to fall into discussion with the small group of Duo’s friends, Avery’s presence and Duo’s tension had made the night anything but relaxing.

 

“Why  _ did _ you invite me?” Trowa had to ask. Of all the things they  _ could _ have done, this wasn’t what Trowa had imagined.

 

Duo let out a long sigh.

 

“I guess… I guess I wanted backup. I knew tonight was going to suck. I… I meant to get in touch with you sooner - I thought about doing it the night after we met. But I was just too chickenshit, and then  _ this _ … I had this whole elaborate plan to get out of going tonight, but Je was right- if I didn’t show, it would basically be giving Avery license to make my life a living hell. I just figured… I dunno…  _ You _ knew what really happened. Or at least, what happened to  _ you _ , what  _ you _ did. I didn’t want to sit there and feel like I was going crazy.”

 

Trowa could understand that, and in a strange way, he thought it was a compliment. At the very least, it was some kind of offering from Duo, and Trowa, after tonight, found himself hesitant to refuse it.

 

“Are you and Avery…?”

 

Duo laughed.

 

“Fuck no. Not since I was a freshman - six years ago,” he added with a shake of his head. “I was so fucking stupid and, you know, he was the first guy I’d ever… He was the first, and I was just… I wanted to believe I could be somebody different, you know? I wanted to be  _ Max _ or whoever, and I went and fucking fell in love with him and told him… I told him so much shit.” Duo offered Trowa a wry grin. “If Une knew how much I told him, I’m pretty sure both our asses would be in a detention center.”

 

Trowa, who knew far better than Duo what lengths Une was willing to go to in order to preserve peace, hoped that, for Duo’s sake, she never found out he was telling civilians his Deep Dark War Secrets.

 

Trowa was so lost in his imaginings of what Une would do that it took him a moment to realize.

 

“He betrayed you.”

 

Duo shrugged.

 

“I mean… ‘s my fault. I slept with a  _ writer _ and told him a lot of fucked-up shit - what did I think was going to happen?”

 

Duo led them down the subway entrance on fourth street.

 

They swiped their metro passes at the turnstile, and Trowa checked the time. 

 

The next train would be there in just over ten minutes.

 

This time of night, the platform was relatively crowded, and Duo and Trowa were jostled by passengers milling about.

 

“So, about that plywood,” Duo said.

 

He was standing shoulder to shoulder with Trowa, and when Trowa looked down at him, he noticed that there was a faint scar near the right corner of Duo’s mouth. 

 

“What about it?”

 

Trowa forced himself not to think about how Duo had gotten that scar - he had lived on the  _ streets _ for years before the war. He had always known how to pick fights. 

 

“Why don’t you just buy it?”

 

“Too many preservative chemicals are toxic in commercial plywood, and we usually make it for specific projects, so we try to match the wood when we can.”

 

“What, so like… oak plywood?”

 

Trowa had to smirk. He had had to make plywood out of oak as an apprentice, and he had hated every minute of it.

 

“Yes. Oak, birch, maple, spruce… You can make it out of any hard or soft wood.”

 

Duo shook his head.

 

“It’s still so weird to think of you as a carpenter.”

 

“Why?” 

 

Duo shrugged, his shoulder brushing against Trowa’s jacket.

 

“I just figured you were going to be a- Work for  _ her _ for forever.”

 

Trowa had thought the same, so he couldn’t fault Duo for making that assumption.

 

“Heero talked me out of it.”

 

Duo grinned.

 

“Good. He was always good at talking sense into you.”

 

That was… surprisingly accurate. He hadn’t realized Duo knew that much about him. 

 

Their train arrived, and Duo and Trowa navigated their way onto one of the cars. 

 

They managed to grab a pair of seats on one of the benches that ran on either side of the car, and Trowa found himself squeezed between Duo and a man dressed in business attire and reeking of whiskey.

 

“So… what’s your favorite wood to work with? You like ‘em hard or soft?”

 

It was the kind of joke that Trowa would have expected of Duo at sixteen, and the way his lips curved and his eyes glowed made it clear that Duo was aware of just how immature the innuendo was.

 

“Elm,” Trowa answered. In truth, he liked nearly every wood he worked with in the shop, and each had its own merits. Elm, however, had been his favorite ever since he had first worked with it as an apprentice.

 

“Elm?” Duo echoed.

 

The train came to a stop, and Trowa found himself leaning into Duo for a moment.

 

“Mother Earth,” Duo said.

 

“What?”

 

“That’s what elm represents - Mother Earth, the Earth Goddesses.” Duo shrugged. “I read this transplanted mythology cycle a few years ago - crazy stuff, but kind of interesting. Anyway, elm is all about strength.”

 

Trowa nodded. It was, after all, a hard wood.

 

“It bends, too,” he pointed out.

 

Duo smirked.

 

“So it’s you, in wood form? Bending so you don’t break?”

 

Trowa had never thought about it in those terms.

 

“Maybe,” he allowed.

 

Duo continued to smirk.

 

“So like… did you go to school or apprentice or… How did you become a carpenter?”

 

“I spent four years as an apprentice, sweeping the floor, making plywood, sanding until I thought my arms would fall off.”

 

“And now?”

 

Trowa shrugged one shoulder.

 

“Now I’m a journeyman and I still make plywood, but the apprentices have to sweep, and I make them apply the glue for the plywood so I don’t smell like a dead animal.”

 

Duo chuckled, and Trowa found his own lips lifting at the sound.

 

“You like it?” Duo asked him.

 

Trowa nodded, perhaps too emphatically if the gleam in Duo’s eyes was any indication.

 

“Good,” was all that Duo said.

 

“And you? Do you like… post-Terran Lit?”

 

Duo shrugged.

 

“Some days. Not so much tonight.”

 

That was fair. There were, after all, days when Trowa did  _ not _ enjoy being a carpenter.

 

They spent the rest of the ride in comfortable silence, sliding into each other whenever the train stopped at a station, until they got off at Duo’s stop.

 

“Do you, uh, live around here?” Duo asked as Trowa walked up to the street level with him.

 

They were just off 135th street and Lenox. Trowa lived a few blocks west and south.

 

“I live near Morningside Park.”

 

“Oh. Shit. I didn’t realize we were neighbors.”

 

Duo hesitated, and Trowa wondered if Duo was trying to give him the brush-off.

 

“I, uh, I’m a little farther north, off 137th.” He made a vague gesture.

 

Trowa nodded.

 

“Mind if I walk in the same direction?”

 

Duo shrugged again.

 

“If it’s not out of your way.”

 

They walked north, the breeze refreshing after the nearly thirty-minute ride on the stuffy subway.

 

“The play was garbage,” Trowa felt the need to say.

 

Duo glanced up at him.

 

“It was, wasn’t it? I mean - all else aside, the _death scene_ _for Treize took forever_.”

 

“I felt like we could have fought an entire new war in the time it took for him to finally stop singing,” Trowa agreed.

 

Duo laughed.

 

“Seriously, though - he just kept going on and on and  _ on _ ! At least the  _ actual _ Treize knew when it was his cue to exit the freaking stage.” Duo laughed again, and shook his head. “He wasn’t fair to Relena, though. Avery’s a fucking misogynist, and doesn’t understand anything that isn’t spelled out for him in big letters.”

 

“He wasn’t fair to  _ anyone _ ,” Trowa murmured.

 

“A-fucking-men to that. Jesus, I’m going to have sit in class with him next week while everyone gushes over how  _ brave _ and  _ real _ it was.”

 

“I suppose it was brave, in a way.  _ I _ would never be bold enough to put that much garbage on display for people and ask them to pay to see it.”

 

Duo laughed again, and Trowa found that he liked the sound, liked the way Duo’s face relaxed and his hair curled over his neck when he threw his head back.

 

A few minutes later, Duo came to a stop in front of an ancient, crumbling brownstone that might have been standing since before humans had perfected space flight.

 

“This is me,” Duo said, and jerked a thumb towards the building.

 

Trowa nodded.

 

“I, uh, well, it was a shitty nightmare but there were some good parts,” Duo continued. “Thanks for coming. It was good to have you there.”

 

“The next time you invite me on a date, can it be to something less terrible?”

 

“It wasn’t a date,” Duo muttered, but his cheeks were flushed again.

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

 

“It  _ wasn’t _ !” Duo sounded defensive now, and Trowa had to smirk. “If it was a date, I would have done the whole nudging you for a kiss thing.”

 

“Nudging me for a kiss?” He tried to picture it. Tried to picture Duo Maxwell, remorseless assassin,  _ nudging _ someone for a kiss.

 

Duo rolled his eyes.

 

“You know…” He stepped closer to Trowa, pressed his chest to Trowa’s and leaned his right shoulder into Trowa’s left, the move bringing Duo’s lips tauntingly close to Trowa’s own.

 

“Oh.” He imagined he could see the puff of air hit Duo’s cheeks. Imagined he could see the flutter of interest in Duo’s eyes.

 

“Yeah.” Duo didn’t step away.

 

Trowa tilted his head down, brushed his lips over Duo’s lightly.

 

He started to straighten up and Duo followed him, lips chasing his own.

 

Trowa allowed Duo to catch him, pressed back when Duo’s mouth turned insistent.

 

When they finally parted, Trowa was shocked to find his hand in Duo’s hair. Even more shocked to feel the pounding of his own heart, the frisson of desire as he rubbed his thumb against the nape of Duo’s neck and the other man shivered.

 

“You nudged me for a kiss.”

 

It was, perhaps, the most ridiculous thing he could have said. Trowa wasn’t able to even  _ think _ of anything else to say, however.

 

“Yeah, I did,” Duo agreed.

 

He was smiling, an expression Trowa had never seen before. There was no mockery, no insecurity, no dark humor or self-deprecation. 

 

Duo looked  _ happy _ and a little flustered.

 

It was, Trowa decided, a good look for him.

 

“Goodnight,” Trowa said, and let his hand fall away from Duo’s neck.

 

“Night.”

 

Duo walked up the steps to his apartment, pausing before he opened the door to turn around and look back at Trowa.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Trowa responded.

 

“You should pick the next date.”

 

Trowa smirked.

 

“How do you feel about jazz?”

  
  


-o-

 

Notes:

 

_ Amemao _ : a Dominican insult, basically calling someone a doormat.

 

On Manhattan neighborhoods: I imagine there is EVERY chance that in the AC world the neighborhoods have different names. But at the same time, I think there is EVERY chance they still have the same names. Assuming some of them aren’t underwater.

 

On the subway: I mean, we ALL hope and pray that NYC Transit just… gets blown up and magically reimagined. But for the sake of this fic, I’m just using the existing trains and stations.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Wishing Kangofu-CB the happiest day of birth. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for letting me write you a thing!

 

A/N2: Title inspired by the HAIM song by the same name.

 

A/N3: Always, always thanks to Ro for beta reading and supporting me. You are, quite literally, the best.  I also want to thank ChronicWhimsy, who graciously gave me another set of eyes and editing on this.

 

Warnings: angst, language, sex

Pairings: 2x3

 

_ Ready for You _

 

Chapter 3

 

_ Post-Human #47 _

_ The void of space welcomed the lost children _

_ No promises _

_ No lies _

_ Only the certainty of silence and death for all _ .

 

Trowa had picked up the volume of poetry from the library a few days after watching the awful display that Avery had insisted was  _ theatre _ . 

 

During one of the pleasant interludes that night, Ines and Alice had argued about a Lunar poet, Altantsetseg. She had been one of the earlier Lunar colonists, ironically killed during a poetry reading on Earth when the ancient auditorium collapsed during an earthquake. Alice had insisted Altantsetseg was too focused on the experience of transitioning from life as a Terran to that of a colonial, while Ines felt it was the struggle between the two identities that allowed her work to maintain its relevance. Duo had shrugged and pointed out that no one titled their poetry  _ Post-Human _ if they didn’t think the  _ point _ was what happened  _ after _ the transition from Terran to colonial. 

 

Trowa found himself surprisingly engaged with the material. He was, always had been, an avid reader - consuming any text that fell into his hands. Paired with an eidetic memory, it meant that Trowa had quite a lot of literature, and OZ battle plans, floating around in his head. He hadn’t expected to like Altantsetseg so much, however, or feel as if she were ripping his experiences from his fingertips and flinging them onto the pages before him.

 

It was an unsettling feeling, especially since he was, after all, a Terran.

 

The poem,  _ Post-Human #47 _ , brought back far too many memories of his time in space. Ironically, it wasn’t the flashes of memory from his time adrift in an EVA suit after Quatre’s bout with the ZERO system. Instead, the poem reminded him of afterwards, of  _ regaining _ his memories, of learning who he was - and who he wasn’t.

 

He had been, perhaps still was, nothing. Nothing, of course, except promises and lies. 

 

Perhaps-

 

“What’s his name?”

 

The voice, high and thin, startled Trowa out of his thoughts.

 

He lowered the book, the  _ actual _ book because he couldn’t help but give in to a no-doubt hedonistic desire to touch the pages, and looked down to see a child standing in front of him.

 

Her eyes were puffy, and it was clear she had been awake for only a short time and wasn’t at all happy to be away from her bed.

 

She was wearing a school uniform, which perhaps explained her presence on the train.

 

Trowa closed the book and rested it against his thigh as he looked around. No one seemed particularly concerned about the pre-adolescent child speaking to a stranger. 

 

“Well?”

 

He felt his lips twitch at her impatient tone, and saw her gesture to the canvas rucksack on the bench beside him. Poking out of the top was a fluffy head and large, dark eyes that blinked sleepily.

 

Trowa reached out and scratched the head with a few fingers, drawing the dog out of drowsiness.

 

“ _ Her _ name,” Trowa corrected gently, “is Diana.”

 

“Diana? Diana was the goddess of the hunt.”

 

Trowa felt his lips quirk. The girl looked very pleased with herself for making the association.

 

“Not quite.” Trowa lifted Diana from the rucksack and settled her in his lap. The girl came closer, the lure of the fully-exposed puppy too much to ignore. It was a little unsettling to Trowa, how easily this girl just assumed she could safely move closer, could reach out and pet the dog and trust that no harm would come to her.

 

It was a stark contrast to himself at that age. 

 

“What do you mean ‘not quite’?” the girl asked as she petted the dog, running her fingers through the riot of curls on the puppy’s head. 

 

“Do you know who Diana Prince is?”

 

The girl shook her head in the negative.

 

“ _ She _ was a mythological warrior, too. An old-American myth. You should look her up.”

 

The girl gave him a haughty look.

 

“I will.”

 

She continued to pet the dog, running her small hand over the equally-small body.

 

“What kind of dog is she?”

 

“No kind. Or maybe every kind.”

 

“A mutt,” the girl said, delighted.

 

Trowa nodded.

 

“Like me, then.” Her gaze was solely focused on the soft fur between her fingers as she spoke. “Don’t know who my parents are, or where I came from. Don’t look like anyone I know.”

 

Trowa wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to her words. The matter-of-fact way that the girl said them reminded him too much of himself.

 

“How old is she?” the girl asked in an abrupt change of subject, her tone brighter.

 

Trowa shrugged one shoulder.

 

“I’m not sure. I found her a few weeks ago. Too young to be on her own.” 

 

He wasn’t sure if he was talking solely about the dog, and the sharp look the girl gave him made it clear she sensed his double meaning.

 

“Well. She’s cute. Diana’s a good name.” The puppy licked and nipped at her fingers, and the girl giggled in delight.

 

Trowa found himself smiling a little at the sound, at the sudden levity.

 

“Anyway. Altantsetseg is so boring. We had to read her last year. You should try Yasmine Fares.”

 

Without waiting for any comment, the girl patted Diana on the head and then flounced off.

 

Trowa could only stare after her, watching as she made her way to the end of the car and then turned to go down the steps to the lower level.

 

Diana whimpered, and Trowa looked down at her. 

 

“I have no idea,” he murmured, and scratched her head.

 

After resettling her in his bag, he picked the poetry book back up and tried to read more of it. The encounter with the girl, however, had left him unsettled, and he wasn’t able to properly focus on the words or their meaning.

 

By the time the train arrived at his stop in Brooklyn, Diana was asleep again and Trowa had given up on reading entirely. Instead, he stared out the train window at the view, watching the morning traffic.

 

Diana gave a slight whimper of protest when Trowa picked up the bag and adjusted it on his lap. He could feel her settling herself again inside and, as he had grown accustomed to doing over the past few weeks, made sure to walk as evenly as possible as he left the train and merged into the foot traffic. 

 

It was a seven-minute walk, these days, from the station to the woodworking shop.

 

Cheek & Cove had been around for more than three hundred years, passed down in a family of carpenters since before Terrans had started to leave Earth. They specialized in furniture, and prided themselves on doing everything ‘unplugged’ - there were no power tools in the shop at all. It occupied the same site that it had been founded upon, an ancient and huge brick warehouse that had been gutted centuries ago and rebuilt and gutted again in a cycle of evolution and rebirth ever since.

 

Ever since Trowa had first walked into the place, almost six years ago, he had felt at home. It had the constant energy of a hanger and the carpenters had the camaraderie of a mercenary troupe, the tradecraft secrets guarded as tightly as if they were circus acts.

 

They had tested him, and Trowa, used to being tested, had immediately been put at ease, had proved himself bizarrely knowledgeable about the types of wood and furniture styles they interrogated him about.

 

On his first day, he had promptly made a fool of himself by using a planer instead of a sander, and Harlan, a grizzled Master Carpenter, had muttered all manner of insults under his breath as he dressed Trowa down and then made him redo the work with the correct tool.

 

It was a mistake, but, as Harlan muttered over coffee later that same day, it wasn’t like Trowa had killed the wrong man. Just used the wrong damn tool. Like a fucking idiot.

 

There were three Master Carpenters who worked in the shop, two journeyman carpenters, the Shop Foreman, two resident designers, a draftsman, and then Alison Haeney, this generation’s owner of the shop. And Trowa, the lone apprentice.

 

They usually had two, but there had apparently been an incident with the other apprentice a few months before Trowa began to work there, an incident that no one much cared to speak about but one that meant the company’s drug testing policy became a lot more stringent. 

 

It wasn’t until the second year of Trowa’s apprenticeship that another apprentice was hired, and by then, Harlan had more or less adopted Trowa as  _ his _ fucking idiot and Trowa had spent the remaining years of his apprenticeship working directly with Harlan, soaking up all of the older man’s knowledge and growing used to, and perhaps even fond of, his gruff manner.

 

Trowa had stayed on at Cheek & Cove after being promoted to a journeyman, despite the offers he had had from other shops, all of whom seemed to prize the experience of a C&C carpenter, even though, to Trowa’s knowledge, C&C was the only large-scale shop left in the city that built without power tools.

 

As he walked into the shop that morning, still a little uneasy after his encounter with the girl on the train, Trowa noticed that the two new apprentices were huddled together by one of the work tables, backs to the entrance and shoulders hunched.

 

He arched an eyebrow at Sarah, the shop foreman, who stood by the doorway to the small lounge where they kept the coffee pot. She was sipping from a steaming cup and keeping a weathered eye on the pair of apprentices.

 

Trowa walked over to her, removing his bag carefully as he did.

 

“Morning, my precious,” Sarah cooed.

 

“I thought we agreed not to use pet names at work,” Trowa responded.

 

Sarah rolled her eyes at him and set down her coffee to reach for Diana, taking the puppy from Trowa’s bag and letting the dog lick her cheek.

 

“What did they fuck up now?” Trowa asked, jerking his head back towards the apprentices.

 

Sarah snorted.

 

“More like, what  _ didn’t _ they fuck up now,” she muttered. She set Diana down and the dog headed for the canvas-covered, sawdust-stuffed pillow that Harlan had made for her.

 

Trowa had been hesitant about bringing Diana to work, but after leaving her alone in his apartment for two work days and coming home both nights to find the place a disaster, he had asked Sarah for permission.

 

She had surprised him by smiling - which wasn’t all that rare - and then clapping her hands together enthusiastically - which was. A  _ shop dog _ had apparently been a dream of hers for some time, ever since the last one died fifteen years ago.

 

Even Harlan, gruff and muttering warnings about Diana pissing on the floor or chewing up his good Brazilian heartwood, had made the dog bed and left it in the lounge for her.

 

Trowa made sure Diana had food and water, stowed his bag, and then poured himself a cup of coffee.

 

He joined Sarah in watching the apprentices.

 

They were no longer hunched together, but had moved to opposite sides of the work table and seemed to be in the process of trying to correct a project layout.

 

“Is that Harlan’s bed frame? For that couple in Taiwan?”

 

Sarah nodded.

 

“Yep. He told them to have it marked out for cutting by the time he came in this morning.”

 

“Why do they look like they’re fixing a mistake?”

 

“Because Roger forgot Harlan said they were using Shitage Kama joints, so he marked it up for dovetails.”

 

Trowa winced.  _ That _ was a time-consuming mistake. And one that, had it not been caught, would have resulted in them having to scrap the entire project and start again.

 

He shook his head.

 

Sarah snorted again, and arched an eyebrow at him.

 

“Don’t think you weren’t just as dumb. I remember how Harlan used to bitch and moan about you over beers. ‘This kid’s never going to learn. Fucking idiot keeps trying to use the ball pein to put in gimp pins.’”

 

Trowa glared at her, but Sarah just continued to smirk.

 

“I was young.”

 

“Uh huh. Just like them.” She sighed and shook her head. “Someone should go over there and help them before Harlan gets here and makes them cry again.”

 

Trowa nodded in agreement.

 

Sarah kept looking at him.

 

“Oh. You mean  _ me _ ?”

 

“Do I look like I’m not far too busy?” She didn’t move from her position of leaning against the doorframe and holding her coffee mug.

 

“No, ma’am,” Trowa answered immediately. “Far too busy.”

 

She smirked again and, as Trowa started to walk towards the two apprentices, Sarah went into the lounge and called out Diana’s name.

 

After Trowa managed to get the apprentices back on-track - when Harlan arrived, his muttered imprecations were  _ slightly _ less colorful than they sometimes were - he went back to his own project for the week.

 

As one of the two journeyman carpenters, Trowa did much less of the ‘grunt’ work than the apprentices, and usually had his own projects to work on. Sometimes he assisted the other Master Carpenters, and sometimes he was saddled with keeping the apprentices from burning down the shop or cutting off their hands.

 

His current project, a huntboard commissioned by an L5 financier, was made from bois de rose. A rosewood native to Madagascar, it had nearly gone extinct until some entrepreneuring botanists on the moon found out that the lower gravity environment, combined with the ability to perfectly control soil acidity and humidity, was the perfect environment to grow endangered Terran plants.

 

The irony of working with wood grown in  _ space _ was not lost on Trowa. Nor was the sheer amount of labor required to work with the exotic rosewood. It was a hardwood, and not particularly easy to work with for anything other than turning or small inlay work.

 

That the client wanted an entire huntboard made out of it was ludicrous - and Trowa had  _ known _ the moment Sarah described the project that he would be saddled with it.

 

Harlan’s arthritis meant that he took on more and more of a mentoring role in the shop, and the other two Master Carpenters were each heavily involved in crafting entire furniture suites for two different clients. Which left Trowa and Mohammad, the other journeyman carpenter.  _ Neither _ wanted the project. But Mohammad, who hadn’t apprenticed with C&C and had only just been hired three months prior, was still enough of a wildcard that Sarah had been hesitant to trust him with such an exorbitantly expensive project.

 

After a week, Trowa was nearly done with the project. His hands, his tools, and his sweat-purpled stained t-shirts and rags told the story of just  _ how _ done he was.

 

The piece was gorgeous, but as Trowa worked on sanding down the varnish he had applied the previous day, Trowa would  _ not _ be sad to see it wrapped up and shipped off.

 

Over the next few days, he would have to varnish, sand, varnish, sand and repeat until he had built up six layers of varnish, as per the client’s wishes. Harlan had had mutterances about  _ that _ too - something about just submerging the damn thing in an aquarium.

 

It was lunch before Trowa had the huntboard sanded and wiped down completely in preparation for its next coat, and as he washed his hands off, he heard some commotion over by the entrance of the shop.

 

He turned at the sound of Diana’s enthusiastic yapping and saw her running from the lounge to join Harlan at the shop entrance, where Heero Yuy stood.

 

The two apprentices, busily sweeping up, stopped to stare.

 

Trowa smirked. They were new enough that it was the first time they had seen Heero, and they were  _ young _ enough to look at Heero Yuy and see only the face of freedom and peace, and not the man or the suffering he had experienced.

 

Harlan, on the other hand, was used to Heero Yuy, to the way the former Gundam pilot dropped by unannounced every few months to see Trowa. He was also old enough to have seen what war did to men and to children, and to respect Heero for who he was  _ now _ more than for what he had done  _ then _ .

 

Trowa dried his hands off and watched Heero and Harlan shake hands, watched Heero slip Harlan a small, brown package before leaning down to scoop up Diana.

 

Heero hadn’t met her yet, Trowa realized, as he saw Heero’s lips curve upwards and heard him laugh.

 

It was still a rare enough sound that the purity of it made Trowa’s heart constrict a little.

 

He approached the group by the door, shooting the apprentices a hard look that finally made them stop staring and return to sweeping.

 

Harlan and Heero were speaking in low tones while Heero scratched just under the dog’s ears.

 

When Trowa came up to them, however, both men stopped and Harlan huffed, muttered something about staying sharp, and walked off.

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow at Heero.

 

“Please tell me you weren’t asking him about me again?”

 

Heero didn’t look at all apologetic as he shrugged.

 

“Someone has to make sure you don’t cut off your hand.”

 

Trowa rolled his eyes but decided not to engage. It was, as he was reminded constantly, a losing battle to argue with Heero  _ or  _ Cathy about his ability to fend for himself.

 

“I brought food.” Heero indicated a paper deli bag on the floor.

 

“Good. Because all I have is leftover pizza.” He held up a hand to forestall Heero’s favorite diatribe. “Don’t. You don’t have to eat it.”

 

Heero gave him a smug smile and then lifted Diana.

 

“Who is this?”

 

“Diana. I found her in the alley near my apartment a few weeks ago.”

 

Heero nodded.

 

“Cathy will be happy that you have someone to take care of.”

 

Trowa rolled his eyes  _ again _ . He was eternally grateful that Cathy and Heero, for all that they got on, had no interest in a romantic relationship. The two of them teaming up would result, he was sure, in far too much stalking and meddling.

 

“I need to take her out, and then we can eat.”

 

Heero nodded and passed Diana over. Trowa accepted the dog and led the way to the other end of the shop, to the door leading to the old lumber yard, overgrown decades ago but now the perfect place for Diana to go about her business.

 

Trowa waited patiently, enjoying the sight of her romping through the moss and wild-growth, chasing after a stray cat who could have no doubt decimated Diana in a fight but chose to retreat instead.

 

Back inside, he found Heero sitting at his work table, a small feast spread out on top of the folded deli bag.

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow at the spread.

 

It shouldn’t have surprised him that, after the war, Heero - in his quest to find out just what it meant to live his life without the focus of battle to keep him directing his every move - had become more than a little hedonistic. He didn’t throw money around, and he still lived the kind of bare-bones existence that meant he could throw most of his possessions in a bag and clear out of his apartment in less than ten minutes, but he  _ did _ tend to obsess over food.

 

He accepted the glass bottle Heero held out to him, arching an eyebrow at the label,  _ Rose Lemonade _ , but wisely deciding not to comment on it.

 

“Turkey, brie, argula and dijon mustard on oat bread or lavender chicken salad on rye.” Heero held up the two options.

 

“ _ Lavender _ chicken salad?”

 

“It should go with the rose lemonade.”

 

Trowa decided that, if he could survive all that he had, he might as well  _ try _ the chicken salad. Otherwise, Heero would sit there and eat it with his smug little smile and make all kinds of appreciative noises and comments.

 

The first bite was surprisingly edible, but definitely not something Trowa would have ever picked out. Or was likely to eat again.

 

Heero waited until Trowa was halfway through the sandwich before launching his attack.

 

“I didn’t realize Duo was your type.”

 

Trowa choked on the bite of chicken salad and glared at Heero. The smirk aimed at him indicated that his former comrade had timed his comment hoping for exactly that reaction.

 

“I don’t have a type,” Trowa said after a sip of the lemonade.

 

“Clearly.”

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow at the darkly-muttered word.

 

“Have you  _ ever _ dated?”

 

“Have  _ you _ ?” 

 

“I’ve been on dates.”

 

“State dinners don’t count.”

 

It was Heero’s turn to glare.

 

“She can’t just waltz around and go to cafes or bowling alleys on a whim,” Heero pointed out.

 

It was true, and Trowa knew it wasn’t fair of him to prod at the far-too-complicated relationship Heero and Relena had.

 

He sighed.

 

“How is she? I saw the newsreels, the attack on L3 and her speech afterwards.”

 

Heero nodded.

 

“It’s not been easy. These last few months...she and Quatre are working on some economic conference. WEI is going to do a lot of capital investments in the L3 sector.”

 

They both knew that was little more than a bandage for the open wound that L3 had become ever since the fall of the Barton Foundation after the Mariemaia incident. 

 

“Back to Duo,” Heero said, refusing to let Trowa dodge the issue.

 

“What about him?” Trowa sighed.

 

“You’ve been dating him.”

 

It made sense, now that Trowa finally thought about it, that if Heero dropped in to visit  _ him _ every few months, he was likely to do the same with Duo. Trowa just hadn’t realized, before three weeks ago, that he and Duo even lived in the same city.

 

“We’ve been on a few dates.”

 

Trowa wondered what Duo had said to Heero. He knew the only way he was likely to find out was to be blunt and just  _ ask _ Heero what Duo had said, but he wasn’t willing to reveal just how curious he was.

 

“He likes you. He didn’t think he would.”

 

Or, Heero being the bluntest of all instruments the world had ever crafted, would just come out and  _ say _ it in a way that made Trowa wish he hadn’t.

 

“That’s… convenient. Since we’re dating.”

 

He wasn’t entirely sure how to pick apart what the hell  _ that _ even meant. Duo hadn’t thought he would like him?

 

Heero shrugged.

 

“I worry you two have too much in common.”

 

This entire  _ day _ had left Trowa feeling more and more off-balance. This conversation with Heero was almost more than he could handle.

 

“I don’t think it’s something you need to worry about. We’ve only been on three dates.” Four, according to Duo, who insisted the terrible coffee experience was a date, no matter how much Trowa scowled and argued otherwise.

 

“And how many dates do you  _ usually _ go on before you lose interest?”

 

“I’m not sure it’s me who loses interest,” Trowa muttered. He finished off the sandwich and took another sip of the lemonade. 

 

He wanted to be irritated with Heero and this whole conversation, but, as usual, Heero’s open lack of concern for social niceties or dancing around problems or feelings made it wholly impossible for Trowa to  _ not _ think about the point Heero was making.

 

Heero was still looking at him expectantly, and Trowa sighed in frustration.

 

“What do you want me to say? No, I don’t usually see the same person more than once. Yes, we have a lot in common - most of it awful. I like him more than I thought I would, too. Do you want details? Debriefings? What?”

 

Heero snorted a laugh.

 

“Duo already gave me those. I can’t believe you sat through that piece of shit play.” Heero shook his head and took a sip of his own drink, some kind of ginger-ale that was bitter enough for him to make a face as he swallowed it. “And then you took him to a jazz concert?”

 

Trowa shrugged away Heero’s smirk.

 

“It was in the park.”

 

“Uh huh. And the cooking class?”

 

Trowa felt heat on his neck and cheeks, and glared at Heero.

 

Duo had made a comment last Saturday morning, at the park listening to the jazz trio while they ate pastries and drank coffee from the cafe from their, Duo insisted yet again, first date. It had been a throwaway remark, about wanting to learn how to bake, and Trowa, who had been tasked with deciding their next date after shooting down Duo’s hopefully-joking suggestion of going to see a different play written by a  _ different _ friend, had found a pastry kitchen near their apartment that gave classes.

 

“Was not in the park. That wouldn’t have been optimal.”

 

Heero snorted at the retort and shook his head.

 

“You like him more than you thought you would?”

 

Trowa shrugged. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

Heero rolled his eyes.

 

“And?”

 

“And we get along. And we don’t have everything in common.” Which had certainly provided ample opportunities for casual arguments between them. In fact, Trowa had been surprised to realize after an  _ almost _ heated disagreement about refugee resettlements on Mars on Saturday, he actually enjoyed debating things with Duo. 

 

“Really?” Heero asked.

 

“Hm. Did you know he was raised on L2? I, on the other hand-”

 

Heero shoved him, nearly upsetting Trowa’s balance and sending him off the worktable. Trowa managed to catch himself and smirked.

 

“He doesn’t care for scat, which is a disappointment.”

 

Heero choked on his sip of ginger-ale, and Trowa stared at him.

 

It took Heero regaining his breath and  _ still _ looking at Trowa with a red face and wide eyes for him to realize what Heero had thought he meant.

 

Trowa shook his head.

 

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Yuy. I’m talking about jazz.”

 

Heero, however, continued to look wary.

 

“We haven’t even done anything more than kiss. I’ll let you know when we get into the discussion about which kinks are on or off the table.”

 

It wasn’t entirely true. After the cooking class, when Duo walked Trowa home, insisting that  _ he _ could be just as much of a gentleman as Trowa, the kissing had led to a fair amount of over-the-clothes groping that had been rudely interrupted by the catcalls of a passing elderly woman.

 

Heero balled up the wrappers from their sandwiches and started to clean up the space. He had a look on his face that Trowa recognized, from years of having it directed  _ at _ him, that meant Heero still had more to ‘fix.’

 

“Are you going to give me some warning about breaking his heart or something?”

 

Heero sighed.

 

“No. It’s not my place. And he can take care of himself. And getting your heart broken is something that  _ happens _ , apparently.”

 

Heero sounded a little bitter, and the words just a little off.

 

Trowa smirked as he realized why.

 

“You gave  _ him _ the speech about not breaking  _ my _ heart,” he said.

 

Heero glared at him.

 

“I didn’t put it that way.”

 

“Hm. What way did you put it?”

 

“I just pointed out that neither of you has a good record with… people.”

 

Trowa snorted in amusement. It was, after all, true. Still, it was a  _ very _ Heero thing to say. Funnier still, since it could apply to the man himself.

 

“And his response?”

 

Heero gave him a look.

 

“He promised not to shoot you.”

 

Trowa had to laugh. He could, surprisingly, easily picture Duo saying exactly that. No doubt he had had his arms crossed and glared at Heero while he did so.

 

“Then I promise not to shoot him either.”

 

“Just… be careful. There’s a reason you don’t date, and there’s a reason he…”

 

“He what?”

 

But Heero shook his head instead of answering.

 

“Just be careful.”

 

Trowa was both grateful and frustrated that Heero closed the subject of Duo and Trowa’s burgeoning relationship and spent the rest of the lunch break talking about Wufei, recently promoted to section chief of a Preventers station in South America. 

 

After Heero left, Trowa spent the afternoon applying another coat of varnish on the huntboard. The work was mindless - one long, smooth stroke after another after another - and Trowa turned Heero’s words over in his mind, trying to tease out the meaning of what he had said, and what he hadn’t said.

 

Heero’s warning to be careful -  _ Heero Yuy _ , warning him to be  _ careful _ \- rattled around in his head for the rest of the day.

 

-o-

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Wishing Kangofu-CB the happiest day of birth. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for letting me write you a thing!

A/N2: Title inspired by the HAIM song by the same name.

A/N3: Always, always thanks to Ro for beta reading and supporting me. You are, quite literally, the best. I also want to thank ChronicWhimsy, who graciously gave me another set of eyes and editing on this.

Warnings: angst, language, sex  
Pairings: 2x3

Ready for You

Chapter 4

“You’re like the pied fucking piper with that thing.”

Trowa looked up from Alsafar Najima, the posthumously published anthology of poetry by Yasmine Fares that he had started reading yesterday, and followed Duo’s gaze.

A few feet from them, as far as the leash would allow, Diana was rolling around in the grass, kicking her feet in the air and yapping happily. A small crowd of children were gathered around.

While Trowa watched, one was brave enough to venture closer, and when Diana struggled back to her feet and dove at the child, attacking with her tongue, the other children all moved in closer.

Trowa glanced over at Duo, stretched out on the grass on his side, head propped up on one hand and notebooks open in front of him.

Duo was looking at Diana and her audience with a look on his face that was part amused and part baffled.

Trowa allowed himself a moment to admire the way that Duo’s shirt had partially ridden up, revealing a sliver of pale skin above the waist of his dark jeans.

“Eyes are up here, Barton.”

Duo was smirking at him, despite the stern words.

Trowa shrugged one shoulder.

“It’s a free country.” He’d never cared for the saying, and Duo’s derisive snort indicated he felt similarly.

“Can you imagine…” Duo’s voice was lower, “having so little fear that you just walked up to some strangers so you could pet their dog?”

Trowa looked back at the cluster of children.

It really did baffle him. He could see a few men and women, yards away, looking over at them, keeping an eye on their kids but not intervening.

“Maybe this is normal,” he offered. It wasn’t like he and Duo had any point for comparison.

“What, like… it’s always been like this, or normal now that an army isn’t going to storm through?”

“An army was never going to storm through here. No tactical significance. Bombing, maybe. But it’s not the best location to sink resources into occupying.”

Duo rolled his eyes.

“Christ, Trowa, are you really about to go into an analysis on the tactical value of New York City as an occupied city?”

“I already said I think it would have been a better choice to bomb it.”

Duo sighed and closed his notebook.

“Okay. But all that proves is that you’re willing to wreck stuff and have no concern for human life. Occupying it proves that you’ve got the ability to control one of the Earth’s major banking centers and the most important city in North America.”

“Banking can happen anywhere. And the days when controlling North America were strategically important was more than a century ago. Better to use it as an example to keep the old Eastern territories in line.”

Duo considered the point.

“Okay, but you’re forgetting that the fourth-largest spaceport and customs intake routes directly through the city.”

“Then I’d better have control of one of the other three.”

Duo laughed.

“I think you’re full of shit.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing we were never really on opposite sides of things.”

“Hm.” Duo’s gaze turned considering. “I guess.”

It was that vast, dangerous valley between them. The war. The roles they had played. Trowa figured that, at some point, they would talk about things. Or maybe they wouldn’t. All they had done so far, however, was to vaguely hint at things and then let the conversation change or die before they struck too deeply.

The children had decided that chasing Diana back and forth between them was a good idea. The dog was stumbling back and forth as fast as she could, barking anxiously.

Trowa sighed and rose to his feet.

He whistled, and Diana’s ears perked up. She looked his way and immediately raced over to him.

The kids gave him sour looks.

“I think I should take her on a walk.”

“I’ll go with you.” Duo packed up his notebooks and threw them into his bag while Trowa packed away his own book and the bowl of water he had set out for Diana.

The kids continued to stare them down as they walked past, and it wasn’t until they were away from the open field of the park and on the tree-lined path that Duo turned to look over his shoulder.

“Entitled little shits, weren’t they?”

Trowa nodded in agreement. He didn’t mind people interacting with Diana. He could understand the lure of touching something so pure and soft. But, as with most things, people didn’t seem to realize when their interest went too far.

He set a slow pace, enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin as it peaked through the foliage and the play of light on Duo’s face and hair.

“Thanks for meeting me here.”

Duo looked startled.

“Uh. Yeah. It wasn’t a problem. It’s like… a three-minute walk from my place so…”

“You’ve been busy.”

Duo shrugged.

“Fucking exams. Everyone around me is a basket case.” He snorted a laugh and shook his head. “You’d think that writing anything less than the perfect comparative analysis on the patronage system in the post-Terran poetry scene was on par with… I don’t know. Blowing up a colony or something.”

“Is it?”

Duo’s lips tilted downwards.

“Maybe?” He sighed. “It’s stupid, right?”

“A few weeks ago, I wasn’t paying attention and cut a piece of Bocate short and ruined it.”

“Bocate?”

“It’s a South American hardwood. Beautiful grain.”

“Wait, wait, you weren’t paying attention?”

Trowa scowled. It had been the day Duo texted him, asking him to go see the play, and Trowa had spent the entire day more unfocused than he cared to admit.

“The point is that I felt like a complete failure.” He looked over at Duo. “Worse than I felt when a mission went bad and there were additional casualties.”

Duo’s shoulders tightened, lifting with the tension, and his face looked just as distraught.

Trowa wondered if he had said too much. It wasn’t something he would have said to anyone else, not even to Heero. But Duo… seemed to have been hinting at feeling exactly that way.

Duo sighed.

“Fuck, that’s fucked up.” He groaned. “So fucked up. We care more about - about a fucking essay and a piece of wood than a human life? We’re fucking-”

Trowa stopped him, stopped the words flowing out of his mouth, stopped the no-doubt well-earned disgust for the both of them, by kissing Duo.

His entire body stiffened even further, and his hands came up to clench at Trowa’s shoulders, ready to push him away.

But then he softened, relaxed into Trowa and kissed him back, lips moving against his. Parting, allowing Trowa’s tongue to sweep across his own, allowing Trowa to tease him away from the dark thoughts, from the truth.

Duo eased away, hands lingering on Trowa’s shoulders and then sliding down to his wrists before dropping away.

“Sorry.” Duo took an unsteady breath in and then released it.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I know we’re not talking about any of that shit. I just-”

“Why aren’t we?”

Duo scoffed.

“You want to?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“You do?”

“Hell no.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

Trowa arched an eyebrow, and Duo snorted.

“Yeah. Okay, fine. Whatever. Ugh.” He scrubbed at his face. “I just need these exams to be over and get a decent night of sleep.”

Trowa hesitated, the question that had been on the tip of his tongue all afternoon finally pushing its way out of his mouth.

“Have you been avoiding me because of Heero?”

“What? No. Like I said, I’ve had all this studying and these papers to write, and the fucking study groups and… I mean. No. I wasn’t avoiding you.”

It had taken Duo ten days to finally agree to meet up with Trowa, after Heero’s little visit to the both of them. Duo hadn’t ignored him - had messaged him back with excuses, had called him twice just to talk. But he also hadn’t made any reference to wanting to see Trowa.

“What did he say to you?”

“What did he say to you?”

Trowa shrugged.

“That you promised not to shoot me.”

Duo snorted a laugh.

They walked in silence for a while, Diana pausing to sniff seemingly every blade of grass and Trowa indulging her.

“Look. It’s just not… Heero’s full of shit, you know?”

Trowa was pretty sure that Heero Yuy, of all the people he had ever met, was the least full of shit.

He gave Duo a look that must have successfully conveyed his opinion.

“I mean, he just- he just thinks he knows everything.

Trowa wondered how much he could, or should, push Duo to reveal what had happened.

His brain supplied the incredibly unwelcome memory of Duo being interrogated, of him spitting blood onto the crisp white trousers of the man who had been doing the heavy lifting, while another officer asked the questions and Trowa, ostensibly for Une, kept an eye on things. Duo hadn’t had much of a reaction to the beatings - too used to them, Trowa was sure. It wasn’t until he had been waterboarded, until the utterly alien sensation of drowning reminded him that he was mortal, that Duo had started to talk. He had said all kinds of things, had mumbled and screamed and spoken nonstop while he sucked in deep breaths and coughed up the water in his lungs.

It wasn’t until years later, until Trowa was settling into his new life as an apprentice carpenter and making weekly treks to the library, that he realized Duo had been quoting poetry. Some ancient Terran poet that Trowa stumbled onto entirely accidentally, Randall Jarrell.

Duo had been interrogated so thoroughly that even Une looked a little green after watching the surveillance vids, and he had had the piece of mind to recite poetry.

“What does he think he knows?”

Duo shrugged and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, once again displaying that narrow strip of pale flesh to Trowa’s gaze.

“Just that I’m fucked up and you’re fucked up, and we’re going to fuck this up.”

Trowa had to raise an eyebrow. He was certain Heero hadn’t used those words, but even so, the comment didn’t sound much like what Heero had said to Trowa.

“Really?”

Duo shrugged again and wouldn’t meet Trowa’s gaze.

“How are we going to fuck this up?”

“I don’t know. Look. I need to meet up with my study group.”

Duo hadn’t mentioned anything about it, earlier. Had, in fact, hinted at them going to get dinner later in the evening.

“Okay.” Trowa managed to keep his disappointment and confusion from his voice. The perfectly neutral tone, however, made Duo scowl.

“Look. Just- I’ll give you a call later?”

Trowa nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure what else he could do.

Duo adjusted the straps of his bag on his shoulders, looked over at Trowa and seemed on the verge of saying something, but then he shook his head and cut through the trees, headed back towards the park entrance. Away from Trowa.

  
\--

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Wishing Kangofu-CB the happiest day of birth. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for letting me write you a thing!

 

A/N2: Title inspired by the HAIM song by the same name.

 

A/N3: Always, always thanks to Ro for beta reading and supporting me. You are, quite literally, the best.  I also want to thank ChronicWhimsy, who graciously gave me another set of eyes and editing on this.

 

Warnings: angst, language, sex

Pairings: 2x3

 

_ Ready for You _

 

Chapter 5

 

It took ten days.

 

Three days of radio silence, in which Trowa stewed in irritation.

 

At Duo. 

 

At Heero.

 

At himself.

 

Why, after all, did it even matter? 

 

He enjoyed spending time with Duo, enjoyed arguing with him, enjoyed the feel of Duo’s smooth hands on him and the look in Duo’s eyes after they kissed. 

 

But there were other people Trowa could…  _ enjoy _ . People less complicated. People who mattered less. People who knew less.

 

If Duo wanted to pull away, he should let him. There was nothing wrong with a strategic retreat. And hadn’t Heero warned him to be careful anyway?

 

On the fourth day, Trowa messaged Duo.

 

**Let me know if Avery fails his exams. We can celebrate** .

 

It was almost embarrassing, how much thought Trowa had put into those few words.

 

He hoped it amused Duo, hoped the petty suggestion earned at least the ghost of a smirk. Hoped the implication that Trowa wanted to see Duo again was clear.

 

He hoped Duo responded.

 

It took another day.

 

A day that, Trowa hoped, the apprentices would forget after Trowa bought them a round at the bar that night. He had not been charitable towards them at all, not after he came in early and found that they had left a pallet of oak planks outside over the weekend. It had, of course, rained almost every day.

 

Every single plank, planks that Trowa had meticulously hand-cut, planed and sanded down, was bowed or cupped. 

 

Harlan would have spent the morning muttering and then let it go. Trowa verbally eviscerated the pair of them as soon as they came in, and spent the  _ day _ tacking sneering addendums of ‘if you don’t mind not ruining this too’ onto the end of any interaction he had with either apprentice.

 

It wasn’t until the end of the work day, when Sarah gave him a look and Harlan frowned at the way the apprentices made no move to punch out, but instead continued to furiously sweep as if their lives depended on it, that Trowa realized he had, all things considered, been an asshole.

 

He took them to the corner bar and bought them a round, forcing himself to apologize and hating himself when they immediately brightened and relaxed. He didn’t like knowing how much he had affected them, how much they wanted his good opinion.

 

It was after his third beer, when the two apprentices had thankfully moved to a table and were chatting up a pair of mildly interested women, that Trowa’s phone hummed.

 

**He won’t.**

 

Trowa stared at the message and told himself the queasy feeling in his stomach was because the leftover pizza he had had for lunch had perhaps been a few days too old.

 

What a surgical way to tell Trowa to fuck off, without actually having to say it. Probably Heero’s misplaced talk with Duo about not breaking Trowa’s heart had kept him from saying  _ that _ outright.

 

He put the phone down on the bar.

 

Four dates. Five dates. It hadn’t worked out. 

 

Trowa supposed this happened all of the time, for people who dated. It was probably normal. 

 

You ran into someone who knew what the monster looked like under the mask you showed the world. You had coffee with that someone and felt like an idiot. You let that someone drag you on a terrible date and you got to see just how good a job  _ they _ had done at making their own mask to hide their monster. And then you did a lot of kissing and actually enjoyed spending time with them, and then- then they told you to fuck off.

 

He was sure Cathy had complained about this. Sure the people he worked with had too. 

 

This-

 

The phone hummed again, and Trowa almost dropped it in his eagerness to pick it up.

 

**What’s your subway critic got you reading these days?**

Trowa took another sip of his beer before responding, telling himself that he wasn’t feeling relief, or giddiness, or anything approaching that. Three beers after a long day of work meant he was a little buzzed. Nothing more.

 

**I haven’t seen her again. I picked up Ogg’s anthology yesterday.**

 

He sat at the bar, phone in one hand and beer in the other, and waited for Duo to message him back.

 

An hour later, Duo still hadn’t sent him anything else, and the apprentices walked out with smirks on their faces and giggling women holding their hands.

 

The next day was, thankfully, a Saturday. 

 

Trowa went to the park to listen to the jazz trio in the morning, hoping Diana didn’t make too huge of a mess in his absence and, when he returned, discovered that she had, in fact, made quite a large mess. She didn’t seem to care that he  _ needed _ to wear socks more than she needed to eat them. Nor did she care much for toilet paper staying on a roll or her food staying in its bowl.

 

He couldn’t even begin to be upset with her, especially not when she stood on her hind legs and begged for his attention the moment he walked in the door.

 

Trowa spent the day cleaning and tinkering, resolutely leaving his phone in the bedroom and telling himself, far more than once, that it didn’t matter whether or not he and Duo talked again.

 

On Monday, during his lunch break, Trowa thought about messaging him.

 

Riding the train home, he did.

 

**How are your exams going?**

 

It was after midnight, and Trowa was lying in bed reading, when Duo finally responded.

 

**Soul sucking. I feel like the OZ interrogations were more gentle than this shit. Actually, I’m pretty sure the Comprehensive Exam was designed by some OZ Intelligence Officer.**

 

Duo had complained, that day at the park, about having to juggle studying for the exams in the three classes he was enrolled in, writing papers for each,  _ and _ preparing for his Comprehensive Exam that would be held only a week after the completion of his other exams. Trowa hadn’t had a clue what he was talking about, and Duo had explained in excruciating detail that the Comprehensive Exam was something he had to pass in order to be admitted into the PhD program. If he failed it, then he might as well go see if Une would offer him a job, because his life would be over.

 

**Your last exam is on Wednesday?**

 

**Yep. And then I get to bury myself in flash cards and notebooks for a week before I crash and burn. Hey, you think Une would let me do R &D or would she stick me back in the field?**

 

**I think Une would do anything possible to limit your access to any sort of weapons.**

 

**Yeah, but what if it’s a weapon I** **_design_ ** **?**

 

**She’d stick you in customs.**

 

**_Customs? Me?_ **

 

Trowa could practically hear Duo’s horror at the very idea.

 

**You’d know how to stop smugglers.**

 

**You mean I’d know which ones to let get away with it.**

 

That had pretty much been Une’s assumption. Even though she had offered Duo a position within Preventers, she hadn’t trusted him in the least. It had always been Trowa’s understanding that Une would have buried him in paperwork and handcuffed him to a desk.

 

**At least now you know what your other career options are.**

 

**Ha. I actually feel like that gave me the motivation to stay up all night studying. No way in hell I’m going to look at shipping containers for the rest of my life.**

 

**Happy to help.**

 

**What are you even doing awake? It’s almost one - don’t you have stuff to build in the morning?**

 

**OK,** **_Cathy_ ** **.**

 

**Ouch. Get some sleep.**

 

**Good luck with your exams.**

 

Tuesday afternoon, Duo messaged him.

 

**Okay, if I end up having to work for Une will you come with me?**

 

Trowa wasn’t if that meant Duo’s exams had gone so horribly that he was now giving serious thought to working for Preventers, or if they had gone well enough that he could start to joke about it.

 

He hesitated before replying. Duo had neatly evaded his first invitation to meet up. Or, perhaps Trowa had been too subtle. Perhaps he should revert to more familiar tactics.

 

**Meet me for dinner and we can discuss what a terrible idea that would be.**

 

**Tomorrow morning I’ve got my last exam. I don’t think I’ve slept in three days. I’d be shit company.**

 

Trowa was in the process of sending Duo a message about how much he wasn’t bothered by the prospect of not having a deep philosophical debate, when Duo sent another message.

**I have some more work to do at the library, and then I’m just going to go home and crash.**

 

Trowa carefully deleted everything he had been about to say.

 

**Probably a good idea.**

 

Trowa put his phone away and forced himself to go back to work. There were things that needed his attention, and Duo Maxwell was clearly not one of them.

 

On Wednesday, Harlan told Trowa to get his head out of his ass, muttered that he was a fucking idiot, and threatened to have one of the  _ apprentices _ do his job because someone needed to.

 

It wasn’t until Trowa sat down on the stoop outside of Duo’s apartment that he considered just what a bad idea it was.

 

Stalking was the word Trowa thought applied to his behavior. 

 

He was pretty sure  _ this _ wasn’t something people normally did when dating. 

 

Then again, if those pre-colonial films they played late at night were any indication, this was  _ exactly _ what Trowa should be doing. 

 

Duo, he was fairly certain, would have no problem telling Trowa to fuck off in person. And if he’d wanted him to stay away, wouldn’t he have just said that? Wouldn’t he have just stopped messaging Trowa? Stopped responding to Trowa’s messages?

 

He’d been sitting on the stoop for an hour when he realized that there was a good chance Duo was already in his apartment.

 

**Did you survive?**

 

Duo’s response was almost immediate.

 

**Just fucking barely. Tro, remind me to never, ever,** **_ever_ ** **take a class with Avery again.**

 

Trowa winced at the realization that Duo’s last exam had been for the class he and Avery shared. That had to have been painful, after all of the stress Duo had been feeling.

 

**We could just kill him. Save you from another class with him and save the world from his idea of theatre.**

 

**Now you’re talking. Think Heero would help us hide the body?**

 

**If you told him how Avery glorified Zechs in that ‘play’ and treated Relena like shit, I’m pretty sure he’d kill Avery for you.**

 

**Nah. No more killing, remember? But he’d probably hack into Avery’s computer and phone and leave some imaginative threats.**

 

Trowa briefly enjoyed picturing Avery’s face pale and drawn in terror as he realized that Heero Yuy was after him. 

 

**Tro, we should talk.**

 

Even though he had never  _ really _ dated, Trowa had been on enough first dates to know exactly what those words meant.

 

**OK.**

 

**You wanna grab coffee or a drink or… something?**

 

Trowa considered those equally unappealing options.

 

Whatever Duo was going to say to him, Trowa was fairly certain he didn’t want to hear it in public.

 

**I can be at your place in five minutes?**

 

It wasn’t  _ entirely _ a lie. Just a contorted omission.

 

**Okay. I’m just leaving the library now. Give me twenty?**

 

**Sure.**

 

It was twenty minutes that passed with agonizing slowness. Trowa almost wished he hadn’t stopped by his own apartment after work to drop off Diana. 

 

A couple that lived in Duo’s building left, giving him curious looks as they passed. It only reinforced Trowa’s conclusion that this was  _ not _ a normal thing to be doing.

 

He should just leave.

 

Duo wanted to end whatever  _ this _ was. And Duo was stubborn. It wasn’t like what Trowa wanted even mattered.

 

He should just leave.

 

Except that would mean not seeing Duo. 

 

He’d already gone ten years without seeing Duo. He had survived it just fine.

 

He-

 

“Hey.”

 

Trowa looked up to see Duo approaching.

 

“You look like shit.”

 

He had noticed that Duo almost always had shadows under his eyes, but today they weren’t faint smudges. Today, they nearly looked like bruises. Duo’s eyes were also bloodshot, and his hair was pulled back in a haphazard tail. 

 

“Jeez, Tro, lay off the romancing, will you?”

 

In retrospect, it hadn’t been the best thing to say.

 

Duo sighed and sat down on the stoop beside Trowa, close enough that their legs touched, and leaned his elbows on the step behind him.

 

“I feel like shit,” he muttered.

 

“Do you think you passed your exams?” Trowa wasn’t sure if avoiding whatever talk Duo wanted to have was a good or bad thing. 

 

“Yeah. Pretty sure. It was just… a lot. Last year was rough, but these… expectations just keep getting higher, you know? And then there’s the fucking Comp Exam…” Duo trailed off with a groan, throwing his head back.

 

Trowa looked at the long line of his pale throat.

 

He had kissed Duo’s jaw, after the cooking class. Had trailed his lips down the surprisingly sensitive skin of Duo’s throat and nipped and placed a kiss on the hollow above his clavicle. Duo had laughed, a breathless sound that made Trowa think of nothing but sex.

 

“You’ll do well,” Trowa assured him.

 

“I’d fucking better.” Duo sat back up and looked at Trowa. He sighed.

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow. 

 

“I love it when guys sigh at me like that.”

 

“I told you Avery was the first guy I’d ever dated, ever fucked.”

 

Trowa nodded cautiously.

 

“He knew who I was - he  _ knew  _ I was  _ the _ Duo Maxwell from the start. It’s actually why he was even interested in me, yanno? And after him… they all knew I was the kid who did really awful shit. That’s what they wanted, that guy.”

 

“Duo, I was there. I know you’re  _ the _ Duo Maxwell.”

 

The man beside him made a frustrated sound and ran a hand through his hair, further upsetting it.

 

“Right. But I’m- I mean, what’s the point of this, Trowa? You’re not getting your rocks off by getting it on with a former terrorist. You’re just… What do you want from me?”

 

_ This _ was not at all the conversation Trowa thought they would be having. 

 

“What do you want?” Trowa reverted to his training.  _ Keep the target talking. Let them reveal their weaknesses _ .

 

Duo snoted.

 

“I want a lot of things, none of which I’m going to get.  _ That’s _ not the point. What-”

 

“Am I one of those things?”

 

“Well, Trowa, you’re a person, not a  _ thing _ .”

 

Trowa tried to hold his gaze, but Duo looked away.

 

“Do you want me?”

 

“Of  _ course _ I want you, Trowa. For fuck’s sake, I’ve got eyes and nerve endings, don’t I?”

 

The grudging admission was, Trowa had to think, one of the nicest things Duo had ever said to him.

 

“But?”

 

“You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

 

Considering that Trowa had  _ no _ idea what Duo wasn’t saying, he definitely was.

 

He stared him down, and eventually, Duo sighed.

 

“Look, Avery’s a dick, but I can handle it. I can handle him. For the most part. He fucked me over, and it’s… it’s whatever. The other guys - they got their fill, and they moved on. But you... “

 

“What did Heero say to you?” Trowa had been tempted to just call up Heero and  _ ask _ him.

 

Duo was again unable to meet his gaze. 

 

“You’ve had shitty breakups, right?”

 

Trowa snorted.

 

“No.”

 

“ _ No _ ? What, everything’s been amicable and… see you around, still send birthday cards to each other and shit?”

 

“Duo, I’ve never dated anyone.”

 

_ Now _ Duo was meeting his gaze, eyes wide and mouth unflatteringly agape.

 

“Ever?”

 

“Well, there was you.”

 

“ _ Was _ ?”

 

“You’re ending things, aren’t you?”

 

“I- You’ve  _ never _ dated? You don’t- you… Trowa, you don’t kiss like it’s new.”

 

“I’ve never dated. I didn’t say I’d never  _ been _ with someone.” He forced himself to shrug. “One date is usually enough. For me. For  _ them _ .”

 

“Wow. Didn’t realize I was supposed to invite you in for a fuck that first-”

 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Trowa cut him off, seeing that Duo was deliberating taking it the wrong way.

 

Duo glared at him for a moment, and Trowa glared back.

 

“So you’ve never dated, and I’ve only ever dated assholes who screw me over. No wonder Heero thought we were fucked.”

 

And now, at last, Trowa understood what this was all about. 

 

Duo hadn’t wanted to like him. Duo was used to getting screwed over.

 

How many times had  _ Trowa _ screwed Duo over already?

 

“Duo, I promise you, I am  _ never _ going to take your past and turn it into a dumpster fire and make people pay to watch it.”

 

Duo’s lips twitched, but he almost immediately turned somber again.

 

“You’re pretty good at ferreting out weaknesses and using them to your advantage,” he said carefully.

 

Trowa had to agree with that. 

 

“You aren’t unskilled at that either.”

 

Duo snorted.

 

“Yeah, Heero pointed that out.” 

 

Duo scrubbed his face with his hands, and then propped his chin up and looked at Trowa again.

 

Trowa wondered if he should promise not to hurt Duo.

 

He fought with Cathy, occasionally, when she became too overbearing or her visits became too long or she said things that were too incisive. Duo was right, Trowa was good at exploiting the weaknesses he uncovered in others. He had made Cathy cry, more than once, had said things to her that later made him feel sick.

 

He could do that to Duo. He already knew what to do, what to say, after having seen Duo’s interactions with Avery. He could hurt Duo so very easily.

 

He doubted it was a promise he would be able to keep, or one that Duo would even believe.

 

“I’m not interested in you because you’re  _ the _ Duo Maxwell.”

 

Duo arched an eyebrow at that.

 

“It’d be easier, if you didn’t know who I was. If I didn’t know who you were,” Trowa continued. “But it would be harder, too.”

 

“Yeah,” Duo gave a dark laugh. “Amen to that. You  _ get _ it - but you also know too much.”

 

“Maybe I’ll have an amnesiac relapse?”

 

“Is that a thing?”

 

“I hope not.”

 

Duo nodded.

 

“Me too. It’d be awkward as hell to wake up beside you and you have no idea who the naked guy in bed with you was.”

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

 

“How did we get from you ending this to us being naked in bed together?”

 

Duo’s cheeks flushed, and Trowa had to smirk at the look.

 

“Trowa-”

 

“I’m not going to use you, Duo. For whatever they did.”

 

Duo swallowed hard and he looked momentarily fragile, more exposed than Trowa had ever seen him.

 

It passed, Duo straightening his shoulders and his eyes shuttering so quickly Trowa wondered if he had imagined it.

 

“So you… want to keep doing this?” Duo asked hesitantly.

 

Trowa shrugged.

 

“Maybe less of the avoiding me because Heero freaked you out parts. More of the waking up naked in bed parts instead.”

 

Duo rolled his eyes, but his lips curved upwards.

 

“We haven’t  _ had _ any of those parts, yet.”

 

“I know.” Trowa heaved a theatrically tragic sigh.

 

Duo snorted a laugh and then moved closer, shifting upright and nudging his nose against Trowa’s.

 

“Is this another one of your nudge for a kiss things?” Trowa asked, his voice not nearly as controlled as he wanted it to be.

 

Duo smirked.

 

“Yeah. You mind?”

 

“No.”

 

Duo closed the space between them, his breath teasing against Trowa’s mouth. 

 

And then his lips were there, firm and smooth and teasing. 

 

Trowa reached for him, cradling Duo’s head in his hands, tangling his fingers in Duo’s hair while he kissed the other man.

 

Duo shifted even closer, practically into Trowa’s lap. 

 

Duo nipped at his lower lip, and Trowa groaned. He could feel Duo’s lips curve into a smirk against his own.

 

Trowa felt one of Duo’s hands tease at the hair on his nape, felt the other slide over his shoulders. He shivered at the touch, at the heat and wiry strength of Duo.

 

When Duo finally pulled away, nose brushing against Trowa’s again and his lips dragging across Trowa’s cheek as he sat up, Trowa was fairly certain he had never seen Duo look so at ease.

 

His eyes were a little glazed, cheeks flushed and swollen lips a sinuous, sated curve.

 

He didn’t pull his hands away, and Trowa allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of being pressed so closely together.

 

“More of these parts too,” he said.

 

Duo chuckled.

 

“Yeah. I think we could do with a  _ lot _ more of these parts.”

 

-o-

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Wishing Kangofu-CB the happiest day of birth. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for letting me write you a thing!

 

A/N2: Title inspired by the HAIM song by the same name.

 

A/N3: Always, always thanks to Ro for beta reading and supporting me. You are, quite literally, the best.  I also want to thank ChronicWhimsy, who graciously gave me another set of eyes and editing on this.

 

Warnings: angst, language, sex

Pairings: 2x3

 

_ Ready for You _

 

Chapter 6

 

Trowa had actually been to the Harlem Tavern before.

 

Three years ago, Trowa had come home from work and almost suffered a concussion when the man moving into the apartment on the level above dropped a box. Trowa had helped the man, Maji, finish moving in.

 

In return, Maji had taken him to the tavern and plied him with beer. What had followed was one of the most awkwardly awful sexual experiences Trowa had had since leaving Preventers.

 

He and Maji hadn’t spoken again - about the sex or  _ anything _ \- and it had been a relief when Maji moved out last year.

 

When Duo had invited him out for drinks at the Harlem Tavern to celebrate finishing his Comprehensive Exam, Trowa had hesitated. In the week since their near makeout session on Duo’s stoop, Trowa had seen Duo twice - one night for coffee and a different night for dinner. Each time, Duo had looked bleary-eyed and stressed. It had reminded Trowa of the Eve Wars, of those endless hours on  _ Peacemillion _ fighting sortie after sortie before the final battle. He hadn’t mentioned the analogy to Duo.

 

Their conversations those two nights had mostly revolved around Duo muttering about what a failure he was going to prove to be, and Trowa reminding him to eat or drink. Duo had been in a rush, both times, coming from and then heading back to the library, and Trowa had barely managed to get in a kiss one time. Duo had returned it - absentmindedly, but then enthusiastically - and had left Trowa still looking exhausted but with a grin on his face.

 

Tonight would be a chance for Duo to finally relax, and for Trowa to relax  _ with _ him. The only catch was that it wouldn’t just be Duo, Trowa and twenty strangers at the bar. 

 

Apparently, most of the graduate students in Duo’s year had decided to celebrate finishing the Exam as well. It would be weeks still before they knew if they had passed, and Duo had hinted that there were probably going to be more than a few students drinking farewell toasts.

 

In the end, Trowa decided to go. He wanted to spend the time with Duo, even if it meant possibly running into Avery again. 

 

By the time Trowa arrived at the tavern, it was clear the celebration was well underway.

 

It took him a few minutes to spot Duo, and when he  _ did _ pick him out of the crowd, Trowa could only stare.

 

Duo had had several beers, the night of the play, but Trowa didn’t think he had passed the threshold into actual inebriation. Even if he had, Duo had been wound so tightly that any effects were masked by his anxiety and the sheer force of will it had to have taken to keep from putting Avery in the hospital. They had split a bottle of wine during the cooking class, and Duo had been all smirks and casual touches because of it. Trowa had, he assumed, been much the same.

 

Trowa suspected that Duo had already had more to drink tonight than he had on either of those others.

 

The Harlem Tavern had live bands on the weekends, karaoke some nights, but otherwise, the small stage at the back of the bar was kept empty and canned music was played over the speakers. 

 

Tonight, the stage was  _ not _ empty.

 

Duo, Alice and Jehan were on the stage, and Trowa assumed that  _ they _ thought they were dancing.

 

It looked more like the rehearsal for a pornographic film.

 

Duo was sandwiched between them, pelvis looking fused to Alice’s ass and one of his hands on her hip. Jehan looked like he was trying very hard to dry-hump Duo, one of his hands out of sight, up Duo’s shirt and the other holding a beer aloft. The trio were swaying to the music, moving against each other and putting on a show that more than a few of the bar inhabitants seemed to be enjoying.

 

Trowa wasn’t sure if he should be amused, jealous, or disgusted.

 

“Trowa!”

 

He wondered if he would ever get used to the sound of his name being called out like that, in a crowded room full of strangers, and, as always, it sent a flare of anxiety dancing along his spine.

 

Sven, the burly Terran from the night of the play, was waving at him.

 

Trowa drew in a deep breath and moved towards him.

 

The other man had strategically placed himself at the bar, and Trowa gratefully accepted the full pilsner that Sven pushed into his hand.

 

“I’m almost sorry to see you,” Sven said.

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow at that.

 

It would be irritating, though hardly surprising, to learn that Sven was interested in Duo.

 

Trowa looked again at the stage, at Jehan, and decided to reassess his initial evaluation of him as well.

 

“Oh?” he tried to make it sound polite.

 

“Ines thought you wouldn’t show, and I bet her twenty that you would.”

 

Trowa found himself lost in the other man’s logic.

 

“You’re… sorry to make twenty dollars?”

 

Sven chuckled and shook his head before taking a gulp of his beer.

 

“No! No, the twenty is great - means I can grab a decent dinner instead of heating up ramen again. But Ines is never going to come home with me if she’s in a shitty mood. She hates to lose bets.”

 

“I see.”

 

Trowa sipped on his beer and looked at the stage again. He wondered if he should make his presence known.

 

Duo looked happier than he had in weeks, and certainly Trowa had  _ never _ seen this side of him.

 

He wondered if  _ this _ Duo was the one that his classmates were used to, or if this was the culmination of sleepless weeks and anxiety coupled with manic relief at finally being finished.

 

Or, perhaps, it was an attempt to battle against the overwhelming depression of failure. He wasn’t sure how Duo would react, if he had failed his exam.

 

There was, he was uncomfortably aware, a  _ lot _ that he didn’t know about Duo.

 

Strange, how knowing the other man’s weaknesses and strengths in battle left Trowa thoroughly unprepared to figure him out as a civilian.

 

And that, he was forced to admit to himself, was part of the appeal.

 

Whatever song had been playing ended and another one came on, all loud bass and shouting lyrics, and the trio onstage lost interest.

 

There were boos from their peers, but Alice flipped a few people the V and Duo offered up a mock bow before climbing down.

 

Trowa lifted his glass in Sven’s direction, and then nodded towards Duo.

 

“Oh, sure, go enjoy your drunk boyfriend while I get to deal with  _ my _ pissed-off drunk girlfriend.”

 

Trowa felt his lips tug into a sympathetic smirk. He liked Sven. The Terran was easy going, insightful, and far less full of himself than so many of the other Lit students seemed.

 

He made his way through the press of people until he bumped into Duo.

 

“Sorry, I- You came!” Duo beamed up at him, and this close Trowa could see that Duo was definitely nearly dead on his feet. Likely alcohol was the  _ only _ thing keeping him upright.

 

“As if I could pass up the chance to use an obscure quote to call Avery an asshole.”

 

Duo chuckled and leaned close, standing on his toes and looking as if he were about to kiss Trowa.

 

Trowa had never been kissed in public - not unless he counted the glowing darkness of a club, surrounded by strangers and barely on a first name basis with the man pressing against him - and he hesitated.

 

Duo saw it, eyes flickering over Trowa’s face and grin tightening.

 

“‘S’okay,” Duo murmured, and reached out to squeeze Trowa’s wrist. “Would have been a first for me too,” he added with a shrug.

 

Which made Trowa strangely regretful. 

 

He didn’t want to unpack that thought.

 

“How did you do on your exam?”

 

Duo shrugged again, and reached for Trowa’s glass.

 

“Mind if I have a sip?”

 

Trowa passed the glass over, and Duo drank it as if it were water, nearly emptying the glass.

 

“I think I passed. It wasn’t… It…” Duo went ahead and tossed back the last of the glass. “You want to do shots?”

 

It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that Duo should try shots of  _ water _ , but Trowa had always prioritized self-preservation.

 

He kept his mouth shut and offered a shrug of his own.

 

Six rounds of shots later, Trowa was nursing his third beer and wondering why the  _ hell _ he wasn’t at home with Diana.

 

He had put her in the bathroom, moving anything dangerous out of jumping height and surrendering a roll of toilet paper to her determined little jaws before setting out extra food and water for her. Even so, Trowa had the suspicion that when he went home, he would find her on his bed, in a pile of ruined socks, kitchen trash can raided and library books devoured.

 

The shots had been accompanied by toasts, by shouts and lots of hugging, and Duo pressed against Jehan or Alice.

 

Trowa wasn’t even aware of  _ asking _ for shots, or the glasses of beer, but they seemed to magically appear in his hands as the night wore on and the crowd slowly, finally, started to thin out.

 

Until at last it was just a dozen of them - Duo, Jehan and Alice back on the stage - Sven and Ines slow dancing despite the tempo of the music being completely inappropriate, a few students sitting in a corner booth commiserating, and Avery. Always Avery. 

 

He was holding court with two fresh-faced Terrans hanging onto his every word, while Avery’s focus kept drifting back to Duo.

 

It was annoying to see another man paying as much attention to Duo as Trowa was himself. Especially when Trowa hadn’t actually gotten to interact with Duo much at  _ all _ .

 

He spent most of the night talking to Sven, Ines or groups of Lit students who wandered their way. He didn’t make much of an effort, interjecting a point here or there, offering up corrections whenever conversation strayed towards the wars. He was on the periphery, a position he was comfortable with for the most part. Except where it concerned Duo.

 

Trowa wasn’t sure how exactly he was supposed to feel about this, and not knowing made him frustrated. 

 

He didn’t  _ mind _ trying new things, but he usually had the ability to research and plan.

 

_ Dating _ \- dating Duo Maxwell, at that - didn’t come with much of a field guide.

 

Jehan finally detached himself from Duo, paid his tab, collected his coat, and left. All without having said a word to Trowa or even making eye contact.

 

Trowa would definitely have to reevaluate.

 

It was just Alice and Duo dancing now, arms around each other and sloppy smiles on their faces, and it was almost… cute.  Two young people relieved and happy and clinging to each other and those feelings.

 

Avery abandoned his group and moved towards the stage.

 

With a groan, Trowa finished his beer and dug out his wallet. He dropped down enough money to hopefully cover whatever drinks he and Duo had consumed, and then headed towards the stage as well.

 

Disappointingly, but predictably, Avery beat him there.

 

“...that place in SoHo. You coming?” 

 

Avery was leaning against the stage, looking up at Duo with a complacent smirk.

 

Duo snorted and looked past Avery to Trowa.

 

“Hey, you ready to go home?” Duo asked the question as if they had planned to do that all along.

 

Trowa shrugged.

 

“If you are.”

 

“Yeah, Alice was on her way out, so there’s no reason to stay.” Duo didn’t even look at Avery as he said it.

 

Trowa, however, couldn’t resist shooting a superior smirk at the other man. It earned him a dark-eyed glare.

 

Duo and Alice climbed down from the stage, leaning heavily on each other and giggling as they did so.

 

“Where do you live?” Trowa asked her as she and Duo, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, started towards the door.

 

“She’s in campus housing,” Duo answered for her.

 

“I’ll be fine.” She straightened up once they were outside and started to walk away.

 

Duo and Trowa both caught up with her.

 

“No, no, no. You’re on the way home - plus, Trowa needs to sober up.”

 

Trowa shot Duo a look, but the other man just smirked back at him over Alice’s head.

 

The three of them walked towards the Columbia campus, Duo and Alice singing what sounded a  _ lot _ like Sweeper drinking songs to each other, voices just barely above a whisper, lyrics broken with laughter.

 

They watched Alice stumble up the stairs to her dorm, and then Duo turned to Trowa.

 

“Well. Another fucked-up night?”

 

At least Duo knew Trowa hadn’t enjoyed it much. 

 

“Not as bad as the other one.”

 

Duo snorted, shook his head, and started walking north.

 

Trowa caught up and fell into step beside him.

 

“What were you going to say, earlier? When I asked about the exam?”

 

Duo licked his lips and tilted his head back to stare up at the night sky. It was barely visible, above the ever-present glow of the city.

 

“You remember the ZERO system?”

 

“Never heard of it.”

 

Duo shoved his shoulder, but Trowa remained stubbornly upright. 

 

“I, uh, didn’t have the best time with it.”

 

Trowa  _ did _ remember that. Or rather, he remembered Duo’s recounts of it during the war. Not as bad as Quatre’s first time, but  _ not _ good.

 

“Heero always used to say… it was like opening a data log. Like just diving into code and having binary wrapped around you like a blanket.”

 

It was a simultaneously horrific and hilarious analogy. One that only Heero Yuy would have made.

 

Trowa didn’t have much of a leg to stand on, he knew. The ZERO system had helped him overcome his amnesia, and while he would never  _ ever _ subject himself to the system again, it had perhaps felt a little like what Heero described.

 

He wasn’t sure what this had to do with Duo’s exam, however.

 

“The exam… it’s designed to be hard, you know? Not just difficult, but… you’ve got to prove you belong. Prove you know every single obscure fucking thing and that you’re worth the investment of continued mentoring. People came out of it crying, Trowa. One guy just crumpled up his papers and walked out the door. It was brutal.” 

 

It sounded almost like being a test pilot while undercover with OZ.

 

“So it was rough?”

 

_ That _ had been hell for Trowa. The fear of being discovered, the juggling act of his performance as a pilot, his usefulness to Une, his objectives for the rebellion.

 

“No!” Duo practically shouted the word. “It’s the easiest fucking thing I’ve ever done in my  _ life _ !”

 

Being fluent in sarcasm, Trowa was usually very adept at picking up on it. But he couldn’t tell if Duo was being facetious or not.

 

“It was… Tro, I sat down, I opened the blue book and I started writing, and it was  _ all _ so- It was all right there,” he tapped his head. “I just… Fuck. It felt  _ amazing _ . I could have sat there for  _ days _ taking that shit. Hell, Tro, it was  _ fun _ .”

 

Trowa wondered if the mention of the ZERO system was supposed to be a warning that Duo was currently a little unhinged.

 

“You didn’t seem very enthusiastic, when I asked you earlier.”

 

Duo’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded.

 

“Yeah. No. I… I finished the exam, and I was riding so fucking high, and I just- Trowa, what if none of this shit had never happened?”

 

“None of what?” He asked the question cautiously, confident he didn’t actually want to know the answer.

 

“The wars. What if- what if I’d grown up in that orphanage as a pain in the ass, and I’d spent my days  _ reading _ and going to school, and- You know I used to think I was an idiot?”

 

“When?”

 

Duo shrugged. 

 

“After I met Quatre. After I met you and Wufei. After the wars. When I was applying for college. I used to think I was good for just one thing, you know? Destruction - I could do it lots of different ways. I could fuck shit up so silently no one would even know until they woke up dead, or I could, like, blow up an entire fucking quadrant, but I… It was all I was good for. Fucking shit up.”

 

“You were good for more than that.”

 

Duo snorted and glared at him.

 

Trowa shrugged.

 

“You weren’t an idiot when it came to chess. Well, until you let Wufei move for you.”

 

“ _ Let _ ? Listen, Barton, I didn’t  _ let _ Wufei do shit. That- Yeah. I get it. Haha.”

 

Trowa’s attempt at levity fell flat, and they walked in silence for several minutes.

 

“I didn’t realize, until I was in college and taking Particle Physics and Cosmology for my science requirement because I tested out of everything else, that I looked around and… and those kids were  _ learning _ , they were  _ struggling _ to get it. And I just sat there and… I knew it, Trowa. I used to stay after and argue with the prof all the time, and she used to load me down with all of this outside reading, and it was… Trowa, it was  _ easy _ . It was like… it was like disassembling and reassembling a Beretta in the dark kind of easy, you know?”

 

Trowa had had moments like that himself, working in the wood shop. Moments of looking at a project and being able to piece it together perfectly in his head and then execute it. 

 

He nodded and wondered, not for the first time, why Duo wasn’t pursuing degrees in maths or science.

 

“I just… I got so  _ angry _ , you know? Not then - today. If none of this shit had happened, I could have gone to school, I could have  _ learned, _ and I… I don’t know. Maybe I could have done more with my life than fuck shit up, you know?”

 

Once again, Trowa had to nod.

 

It was a different feeling for him, a different question than the one Duo wrestled with.

 

Trowa didn’t have that point of reference in his past where, had things been different, his life might have been better. But even so, he could look back. He could question the decisions that he had made, the path he had been forced to take because of conflict and violence and necessity.

 

“I just… Hell, I’ve been in a shit mood ever since.” Duo shrugged. “I should have called you and told you not to come. But I just…”

 

Trowa reached out for Duo, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together.

 

“I’m glad you didn’t call me.”

 

Duo snorted.

 

“Yeah, and you had an  _ amazing _ time, didn’t you?”

 

Trowa shrugged.

 

“Sven and I got into an argument about the Yankees. That wasn’t so bad.”

 

“Oh my  _ god, _ you follow that shitty Terran sport?”

 

“I’m a shitty Terran, Duo.”

 

“Pfft.  _ Shitty _ isn’t exactly how I’d describe you, Trowa.”

 

Funny, how just those few words went a long way towards erasing the disappointment of the last few hours.

 

“Thanks for telling me. About today.”

 

Duo sighed.

 

“Yeah, I… Well, you know, you wanted less of the avoiding shit parts.”

 

“I did. I do.”

 

They had made good time walking back to Duo’s apartment, and when Duo started up the stairs, Trowa realized he was still holding the other man’s hand.

 

Reluctantly, he let go.

 

Duo looked back at him with a frown.

 

“You don’t want to come up?”

 

“I didn’t realize that was an option.”

 

Duo grinned and jerked his head towards the door.

 

“C’mon. You can make sure I don’t end up in the wrong apartment.”

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow, and forced himself not to ask if that had happened before.

 

He followed Duo into the building and impulsively reached out to take hold of his hand again.

 

Duo looked back at him with a smirk, and as they reached a landing on an ancient staircase, Duo pulled him close.

 

Their noses bumped, and Duo stood up on his toes to press a kiss to Trowa’s lips.

 

Trowa was fairly certain the kiss was supposed to be a playful tag before they continued on, but he held Duo close when the other man started to pull away.

 

Duo grinned, and put one arm around Trowa’s neck and the other around his waist, and leaned back in.

 

Trowa imagined he could still taste beer on Duo’s tongue, imagined he could swallow all of the frustrations Duo had been struggling with, imagined he could find just the right way to touch Duo and make both of them forget about the past.

 

When they finally parted, both of them were breathing heavily, and Duo offered up a hoarse chuckle that was nearly a groan.

 

“Come on,” he said, and tugged on Trowa’s hand.

 

It was another three flights before they reached Duo’s apartment.

 

Trowa knew it wasn’t actually very helpful, but when Duo reached into his pocket to pull out his keys, Trowa let his hands ghost along the same path.

 

He smoothed over Duo’s hips, thumbs looping into Duo’s belt loops and pulling the other man back against him.

 

Duo sucked in a deep breath and leaned his head back against Trowa’s shoulder.

 

Trowa pressed a kiss to Duo’s exposed throat, and then trailed his lips and tongue up his neck.

 

“Fuck, Trowa,” Duo groaned.

 

He managed to open the door, and then turned in Trowa’s arms, kissing him again while pulling him inside.

 

Trowa kicked the door shut behind him and started tugging at Duo’s clothes.

 

“You want something, Barton?” Duo teased as Trowa tugged Duo’s shirt over his head.

 

“ _ You _ ,” Trowa growled. He pulled Duo close again and splayed his hands wide on Duo’s bare back.

 

He could feel the scars - knife wounds, shrapnel, burns. Duo’s body was nothing like the men Trowa usually fucked.

 

He groaned and ran his hands down to Duo’s ass. He squeezed, and Duo ground against him.

 

“I’m guessing you want to skip the tour and go straight for the bed?” Duo breathed.

 

“See? You’re not an idiot.”

 

Duo laughed, the sound so raw and sensual and genuine that it made Trowa momentarily forget how to breathe.

 

He felt Duo’s nimble fingers pulling at his own clothes, and helpfully tossed his shirt aside while Duo went to work on his jeans.

 

Trowa stumbled out of them, following Duo into what he hoped was the bedroom, and they fell onto the bed together.

 

“Ow, fuck, your knee,” Duo grunted, and shifted under him.

 

They managed to remove the rest of their clothes without incident, and then it was all exploration, Trowa learning where to touch Duo, how to make him gasp and groan and laugh, and Duo-  _ Fuck _ . 

 

It was like Duo was trying to infiltrate a base, pushing at boundaries and finding  _ just _ the right spot on his first try, and Trowa wasn't used to this.

 

Of all the partners he had had - confident, fumbling, drunk, sober, familiar or complete strangers - no one had ever devoted quite so much attention to driving him crazy.

 

Duo hadn't even touched his cock yet. He was, instead, using that smirking mouth and those clever fingers to tease Trowa’s nipples, his wrists, his thighs and his neck. 

 

He could feel Duo’s breath puff against his abdomen as the other man chuckled and drew a moan from Trowa and  _ fuck _ .

 

Duo was dismantling him, stripping away everything but sensation and flooding Trowa with pleasure. 

 

It was intense and so  _ damn _ good.

 

He tried to keep up, tried to return all of the teasing caresses and near surgical attacks, but when Duo finally -  _ finally  _ \- reached for his cock, Trowa gave up and let Duo have his way.

 

“You know, I always wondered what it would feel like to fuck you.”

 

“Always?” Trowa could hear just how breathless he was, and it was no wonder. He groaned and clenched at the sheets as Duo dragged the flat of his tongue along the underside of Trowa’s cock, down past his balls and along his perineum. 

 

“Hmm,” Duo hummed as he reversed course, sending vibrations of pleasure through the skin he encountered. 

 

“I mean, I was fifteen and every second was borrowed time - I was horny as hell. Of course I wondered what it would be like to fuck you.”

 

“I hope it’s living up to your expect-  _ Fuck _ !”

 

Duo swallowed his cock from tip to root in one swift motion that had Trowa arching up from the bed.

 

He could  _ feel _ Duo laugh, and that- that was a uniquely pleasurable feeling that Trowa had never before experienced.

 

Trowa wished they had turned on a light, wished he could see the man between his legs, so intent on devouring him.

 

But he wasn't about to move or make any kinds of requests. Not when Duo was doing  _ that _ , sucking and humming and his  _ hands _ -

 

Trowa liked to think he wasn't unskilled. Had, in fact, put in the effort to become a decent lay after his first few fumbling encounters after the war.

 

But this-

 

Maybe it was the beer. Or the fact that he and Duo had been flirting their way towards this moment for  _ weeks _ , but everything felt so much more intense, Duo’s hands so sure and skillful as he coaxed pleasure from Trowa.

 

Trowa wrapped a hand in Duo’s hair, keeping his grip loose, allowing Duo free reign to keep the steady, oh so  _ perfect _ rhythm he had worked up to. 

 

It was divine, the sensation of Duo’s mouth moving over him, the prickle of cool air on his flesh as Duo pulled away before sinking back down again, all tight suction and heat.

 

And his fingers-

 

Duo went from fondling his balls to caressing his perineum and teasing at his anus, fingers mapping their way from one moan-inducing spot to the next. 

 

He felt his orgasm approaching, too soon for something he never wanted to end, heavy and hot and surging from deep in his belly, and he cried out as he came.

 

Duo held onto him, held Trowa steady as Trowa pumped load after load down Duo’s throat, and  _ fuck _ .

 

He fell back onto the bed, and it felt like he was in zero-g. He felt heavy and weightless and completely untethered in the most blissful way possible.

 

“Duo,” he moaned, and tugged at the other man.

 

The feel of his cock sliding from between Duo’s lips was enough to make him moan again.

 

Duo moved up his body, nipping here and here and  _ there _ until he was even with Trowa’s face.

 

He pressed a kiss to the corner of Trowa’s mouth.

 

“You rang?”

 

Trowa laughed and reached through the darkness for Duo.

 

His fingers ran over the curve of his mouth before Duo opened his lips and took a gentle bite at him.

 

“That was incredible.”

 

“I aim to please.” Duo released him and pressed another kiss to Trowa’s lips, a slow caress that deepened, tongues sliding together as Trowa pulled him close.

 

“You always did have good aim.”

 

Duo laughed again and shifted, laying his head on Trowa’s chest.

 

“I think I had too much to drink to be any use to you otherwise,” he said.

 

Trowa snorted a laugh. He wasn't sure how Duo was even conscious now, considering how much  _ Trowa _ had seen him drink, and knowing he had certainly had a head start before that.

 

“No complaints here,” Trowa assured him. 

 

“Mhm. Good.”

 

Duo threw a leg over his waist and seemed intent on falling asleep just like that, naked and tangled in the bedclothes.

 

“Duo.”

 

“Mm?” He sounded exhausted, sounded already half-asleep.

 

“I can't stay.”

 

_ That  _ roused him quick enough _. _

 

“No. Right. Of course.” Duo rolled away, defenses slamming back up, and Trowa cursed to himself.

 

He grabbed for Duo, finding an arm and using it to haul Duo back to him.

 

“I  _ want _ to,” he assured Duo, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, his nose, his eyelids. “But my  _ dog _ is going to turn my apartment into a disaster zone if I leave her alone overnight.”

 

Duo huffed out a laugh, and relaxed against him.

 

“Probably,” he agreed.

 

“Next time, you should come to my place.”

 

“Next time?”

 

“I believe I was promised ‘waking up in bed naked’ parts.”

 

Duo laughed again, more humor to it this time.

 

Trowa sat up and pulled Duo with him.

 

“Help me find my clothes. And drink some water before you go to bed.”

 

“Yes,  _ Cathy.” _

  
  


_ -0- _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Wishing Kangofu-CB the happiest day of birth. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for letting me write you a thing!

 

A/N2: Title inspired by the HAIM song by the same name.

 

A/N3: Always, always thanks to Ro for beta reading and supporting me. You are, quite literally, the best. I also want to thank ChronicWhimsy, who graciously gave me another set of eyes and editing on this.

 

A/N4: Look, in the future I can hope we have all switched to metric like rational beings. But the reality is that I grew up on the Imperial system and I cannot be bothered to do all of the conversions from inches/feet to meters, especially with Trowa as a carpenter. I’m sorry.

 

Warnings: angst, language, sex

Pairings: 2x3

 

_ Ready for You _

 

Chapter 7

 

On Monday afternoons, the shop usually knocked off work an hour early to catch the happy hour specials at High Dive, the corner bar that had hosted more than a few work parties over the years.

 

Sarah had insisted they go on Mondays - after a weekend to relax, everyone usually dragged a bit on the first day back, and going out for drinks at the end of the day made the afternoons far more productive than the mornings.

 

The apprentices had started tagging along last month, when Harlan finally,  _ grudgingly _ , extended the invitation to them. Trowa had also had to wait to be asked, when he had been an apprentice. It was, like many things at the shop, part of a long-standing tradition.

 

There was comfort in that, and even though Trowa knew it was a bit of a weakness to take comfort in traditions and routines, that had certainly been part of his attraction to the job in the first place.

 

As usual, Trowa settled in at the bar beside Harlan, both men sipping at glasses of the happy hour draft special - some craft brew from upstate that was too fruity for Trowa’s tastes - and sitting in comfortable silence.

 

Sarah was, also as usual, sitting on her own and flirting with attractive women with varying degrees of success.

 

Jose and Martine, the other two master carpenters, were engaged in their weekly pool table showdown. The draftsman and designer had begged off attending. In all the years that Trowa had worked for C&C, he could count on one hand the number of times those two had joined them. 

 

Mohammad was sitting in the back of the bar with a group of regulars, all laughing and joking and gesturing wildly.

 

The apprentices seemed to be engaged in some kind of darts competition with some grizzled regulars, and they didn’t seem to be representing the shop very well.

 

Harlan watched them with a weary expression and finally sighed.

 

“Damn kids are going to make us all look bad,” he muttered, and stood up.

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

 

“Well, someone’s gotta show them how it’s done,” Harlan continued to mutter. “Fucking idiots.”

 

He tossed back the last of his beer and walked over to the dart boards.

 

Trowa had to smirk as he leaned back against the bar and watched Harlan start gesturing at the apprentices and the dart boards.

 

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, huh?”

 

Trowa couldn’t quite kill the smile on his face at the sound of the familiar voice.

 

He turned to see Duo approaching, a matching smile on his own face that grew when he took in Trowa’s expression.

 

“You know  _ Casablanca _ ?”

 

Duo shrugged and walked close enough to gently nudge Trowa with his shoulder before pulling up a stool to sit on.

 

“It’s one of, like, five decent films you Terrans ever made.”

 

“Four hundred years of cinema, and we only made  _ five _ decent ones?”

 

Duo held up his hands.

 

“Hey, not my fault you suck. You’ve even had our superior artistic vision to copy for the last two hundred years, and you still can’t get it right.”

 

Trowa rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t about to fall into the trap of having  _ that _ argument with Duo. Especially when most of Trowa’s favorite films were colonial.

 

Duo worked whatever magic he seemed to have on bartenders, and the man walked away from ogling another bar patron to take his order.

 

“What can I do you for?”

 

Duo snorted a laugh.

 

“Um… what are you drinking?” He gestured towards Trowa’s class.

 

Trowa slid it his way, and Duo took a sip.

 

He shrugged, unimpressed.

 

“Not that. Give me a glass of the rosemary ale?”

 

“Coming right your way.” The bartender winked and walked off.

 

Duo snorted again and shook his head.

 

“So, how was your Monday?” he asked, voice saccharine as he teased Trowa with domesticity.

 

Trowa lifted one shoulder.

 

“New commissions came in today.”

 

“Anything exciting?”

 

Trowa nodded.

 

“I’m starting work on an elm medicine chest.”

 

“Elm, huh? Your kinda wood.”

 

Trowa rolled his eyes.

 

“What’s a medicine chest? Like the thing on the wall in a bathroom?”

 

“No. It’s a box - modeled after the pre-modern boxes you used to keep. It’s basically a square chest. Pretty popular these days as a liquor cabinet.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Duo waggled his eyebrows. “That’s my kind of medicine.”

 

Trowa pulled out his phone and showed Duo photos of the draftings and the layout he had started on.

 

“Oh, oh, cool. That’s… Shit, Trowa, that’s awesome.”

 

It was stupid to feel smug about Duo’s appreciation, stupid to be practically  _ preening _ because he approved.

 

Trowa put the phone away.

 

“How did moving Alice go?”

 

Duo groaned and shook his head.

 

“I swear to fuck, it was easier sneaking onto a freaking OZ base and…” Duo trailed off as a few patrons walked by. “Anyway, it was fine.”

 

Saturday morning, he and Duo had met in the park to watch the jazz trio. Trowa had hoped to invite Duo over to his place for the afternoon and evening, had planned on getting in some of the much-hinted-at ‘waking up next to each other naked in bed’ parts, but Duo had reluctantly begged off, citing Alice’s move from the Columbia dormitories into an apartment.

 

“Sore?”

 

Duo gave him a heated look.

 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t strain anything that would ruin whatever nefarious plans you have in store.”

 

“Nefarious plans? Me?”

 

Duo chuckled and sipped at his beer.

 

“Well, this is weird as hell.”

 

Trowa took a sip of it and had to concur.

 

“The happy hour specials are always really cheap, but the beers are…”

 

“Really weird. Yeah. I’m getting that. Hey, where’s the goddess of destruction?”

 

Trowa gestured towards Sarah. The shop foreman had Diana in one hand, a beer in the other, and a cluster of cooing women around her.

 

“Wow. Damn, she’s good - how often does that work for her?”

 

“Too often,” Trowa grumbled.

 

Duo gave him a look.

 

“Oh, like you never used that puppy to hook up with someone?”

 

Trowa sniffed and adopted a superior sneer.

 

“I don’t need  _ gimmicks _ to get laid.”

 

Duo laughed.

 

“Amen to  _ that _ .” He raised his glass in a mock salute.

 

Trowa smirked as Duo swept his gaze over him, head to foot, not bothering to hide what was clearly on his mind.

 

“So,” Duo looked away from Trowa after letting his eyes linger on his crotch and sighing, “this is where  _ the _ Trowa Barton hangs out.”

 

While it wasn’t a bar that he frequented often - really  _ ever _ outside of Monday nights - it wasn’t too radically different from the neighborhood bars where he did spend more time. A little brighter. A lot less chatter about politics. Cleaner clientele. 

 

“Only when I’m pre-gaming before a wild night out.”

 

Duo snorted.

 

“Oh yeah, Trowa Barton - party animal, cruising the city, dancing at all the clubs, showing up on Page 6 photos with celebrities and his puppy. Nah. This place is nice. Very chill.”

 

It was  _ nice _ , Trowa thought, sitting here beside Duo at a bar, drinking beer and talking and just… as close to  _ being _ civilians as Trowa imagined they would ever get.

 

“So, you up for a game?”

 

Trowa followed Duo’s gaze to the dart board.

 

“You want to challenge  _ me _ to a game of darts?”

 

Duo’s smirk was predatory.

 

“Oh, hell yes, I do. C’mon, you afraid to lose?”

 

Trowa arched one eyebrow.

 

“I was raised by mercenaries. I’m not some rube who grew up crewing a ship in zero-G.”

 

Duo nodded.

 

“Sure, sure. See, look at the advantage you’ve got over me. Whaddya got to lose?”

 

That Duo didn’t try to argue that he was, in fact, better equipped to win at darts immediately put Trowa on guard.

 

“The better question is, what do I have to  _ win _ ?”

 

Duo leaned close.

 

“Winner tops?”

 

Trowa wouldn’t say they  _ raced _ to the dart board, but he did take full advantage of his longer legs to get there first.

 

Duo tried to elbow him, but Trowa caught his arm and, smirking, gave Duo a little shove forward.

 

Harlan turned away from lecturing the apprentices and raised an eyebrow. 

 

An eyebrow that immediately sank back down, following the downward motion of his lips as well.

 

“Friend of yours?”

 

“Harlan, this is Duo. Duo, this is Harlan.”

 

“Nice to meet you.” Duo put on his most charming smirk and held out his hand.

 

Harlan stared at Duo, his eyes hard. He made no move to reach for Duo’s hand.

 

“Duo, huh? Duo Maxwell?”

 

Trowa saw Duo’s fingers curl, and then he dropped his hand back to his side.

 

“Yes, sir,” Duo responded, his tone without emotion and his face frozen.

 

“Huh.” Harlan turned his disapproving gaze on Trowa. “And this is a  _ friend _ of yours?”

 

Harlan, who had no problem with Heero Yuy, and who, Trowa was fairly certain, at least suspected that Trowa had been somehow involved in the war, had never shown such public dislike for anyone. Not even the apprentice who had been fired for the unmentionable work violations.

 

“Yeah,” Trowa responded.

 

“How’d you meet him?”

 

It wasn’t a question Harlan had ever asked about Heero.

 

“He saved my life once, you know… Good guy, Trowa.” Duo’s half-hearted attempt did nothing to ease the tension between him and Harlan.

 

“Huh. Go figure.”

 

Harlan walked past them, giving Duo a wide berth.

 

“Do you-”

 

“Shit. Holy  _ shit _ . You know Heero Yuy  _ and _ Duo Maxwell? Like-  _ Shit.  _ I have your action figure!”

 

The apprentices abandoned their clearly still-losing dart game and descended upon Duo.

 

Their expressions of hero worship were enough to make Trowa sneer. 

 

“Duo, these are the apprentices. I mentioned them a few times.”

 

“Yeah.” Duo shook himself and offered up a broader, though no less fixed, grin. “You never mentioned their names, though.”

 

He held out his hand again.

 

“I’m Tim. Holy shit, I wish Trowa had said you were coming by. I would have brought my cards and-”

 

“There are  _ cards _ ?” Trowa made no attempt to hide his disgust.

 

He knew about the action figures. He had seen them. Had, in fact, sent Heero both the Tallgeese and Wing Zero figures for Christmas one year. But  _ cards _ ?

 

“Uh, yeah?” Tim wasn’t in the least bit embarrassed.

 

“I’m Aaron.”

 

Duo shook both of their hands, and it was telling that he was just as guarded in response to their enthusiasm as he had been with Harlan’s disdain.

 

“So… holy shit. How does Trowa know you and Heero  _ Yuy _ ? Man, all the luck.”

 

Trowa glared down at Tim, but he only had eyes for Duo.

 

“Oh, you know, we go way back… So, we were hoping to get in a game of darts, if there’s an opening?” Duo shrugged, nonchalant and wound so tight that Trowa could see the bunched muscles along his jawline.

 

“Yeah, yeah, of course! Shit. You are going to  _ wreck _ Trowa. Ha! This is great. Fuck. I never thought I’d get the chance to meet you.”

 

Duo turned wide eyes and that fake smile up at Trowa. He was clearly struggling.

 

“Round the World?” he asked Duo, ignoring the apprentices. It had always been the best strategy for dealing with them.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

 

Duo’s first few throws were off, which didn’t seem to phase his new fan club. Tim and Aaron cheered him on, and no amount of glaring or non-too-gentle shoving from Trowa would shut them up or get them to back off.

 

Duo settled down, however, and the game became tight.

 

Trowa had always been good at darts. Not, perhaps, as good as Cathy, but he used to win extra rations from the Mercs, and he and Cathy had made an undefeated team at the circus. 

 

It was clear, however, that Duo’s facility with knives and his superb aim with weapons translated well to the game.

 

When Trowa won, earning a chorus of groans from Tim and Aaron, it was only because Duo had fallen behind early.

 

“We’ll have to play again,” Trowa said as he and Duo shook hands.

 

“You bet your ass we will,” Duo agreed with a smirk that was still dark around the edges.

 

Aaron and Tim moved forward, all wide-eyed and eager.

 

“Mind if we step outside for a few minutes?” Trowa asked Duo, turning his back to the two apprentices.

 

“Sure,” Duo shrugged, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

 

Trowa looked for Sarah, saw that she didn’t seem to be on her way out with a lady on each arm, and decided to leave Diana with her.

 

He led Duo towards the back of the bar and, after nodding at the chef and kitchen crew, used the rear entrance to take him and Duo into the alley behind the bar.

 

“You know the chef?” Duo asked.

 

“Not well.” Trowa closed the door behind them.

 

It was warm, but the narrow alley and tall brick walls meant there was plenty of shade. He walked towards one of the brightly-tagged walls and leaned against it.

 

A moment later, Duo joined him.

 

“A few years ago, we came for the Eve Celebrations. I didn’t care much for it, and Ameer let me… hide back here.”

 

Trowa realized abruptly that Duo didn’t get that option. He didn’t get to  _ hide _ from the wars, from what he had done. He had been unmasked, his name and face displayed for all of humanity to judge.

 

He thought about Avery and Ines and the other students Duo spent most of his time with, the way they viewed him as part mythical figure and part peer. Then there were the apprentices, who clearly couldn’t wrap their heads around the idea of Duo being a  _ person _ . And then there was Harlan…

 

“So,” Duo drew in a deep breath and then let it out, “those kids are a lot. Now I totally get why you think they’re going to set the shop on fire.”

 

Trowa nodded emphatically.

 

“They treat Heero like that? I’m surprised they’re still walking and talking.”

 

“They’re afraid to talk to him. Whenever he comes around, they just stand there and stare.” Trowa shook his head. “It’s kind of sad.”

 

“And just  _ think _ how much they’d piss themselves if they knew they worked beside a Gundam pilot every damn day.”

 

Duo sounded bitter, and Trowa swallowed down the urge to defend himself.

 

“Sorry about your friend, Harlan. That-”

 

“Why the fuck are  _ you _ apologizing?”

 

Duo gave him a genuinely confused look.

 

“Because I’m sorry if it makes things weird for you. I know you care about him; he’s like your mentor and father figure, and-”

 

“He’s not a father figure.”

 

“Okay, ‘course not. He just taught you everything you know about carpentry and helps keep your head on straight. And thinks the world of you. Definitely not a father figure.”

 

“It’s not like that,” Trowa snapped. He didn’t want to delve into  _ why _ the idea, the label, was so unsettling, but it was. It reminded him of the captain, another man who had taught Trowa how to survive and who Trowa had disappointed. 

 

“Okay, I get it. I’m sorry. I- Fuck, I should just go.”

 

Duo pushed away from the wall, but Trowa reached out for him.

 

The other man stared at his hand, then sighed and took it in his own. Duo let Trowa reel him in, and he held the shorter man against his chest and wrapped his arms around him.

 

“Don’t go. Not yet.” It didn’t take the ZERO system to guess that Duo coming over to his apartment later was off the table.

 

“Gonna miss me?”

 

Trowa rubbed his nose against the top of Duo’s head, fine strands tickling against him and the scent of his shampoo lingering.

 

“Maybe.”

 

Duo laughed and tilted his head back to look up at Trowa.

 

“It’s just for two weeks. Then I’ll be back, and I was thinking… There’s this art studio down the street from me. They do this ‘drink and draw night’ thing. And I know how you like to work with your  _ hands _ .” Duo put his hand over one of Trowa’s, the one that had been maneuvering towards his ass.

 

“Sounds good. I can’t convince you to skip your vacation and just sit around in your apartment waiting for me to call you instead?”

 

“Tempting, Barton. Very tempting. But a house on the Cape with lots of booze and books is  _ just barely _ going to beat out your offer.”

 

Duo had mentioned the trip weeks ago. Ines’s family apparently had a place in Massachusetts, and this was an annual pilgrimage that she, Sven, Alice, Jehan, Duo and Avery made. Avery.

 

It wasn’t that Trowa was  _ jealous _ that Duo would be spending two weeks with his ex. But he was concerned. There had yet to be an encounter between Duo and the other man that Trowa could describe as anything short of painful. He couldn’t imagine two  _ weeks _ with him would be better. Even if it was on a beach.

 

“I’ll be back before you know it. Plus, I’ll call you and we can work on your phone sex skills.”

 

“You don’t even know if they need work.”

 

Duo grinned.

 

“Then I guess we’ll find out.”

 

Trowa rolled his eyes, but when Duo lifted his chin for a kiss, he leaned down and brushed his lips over his.

 

He started to pull away, but Duo put one hand around his neck and kept him close, deepening the kiss, teasing Trowa with his tongue and teeth.

 

“So, we did agree that the winner got to top,” Duo murmured.

 

“We did.” Trowa reversed their positions, pushing Duo up against the wall and kissing him until he had Duo groaning and clutching at him. “At least I’ve got that to look forward to.”

 

“No time like the present, is there?” Duo challenged.

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

 

“My place?”

 

Duo shook his head.

 

“No, I need to grab some stuff before I head out, and knowing  _ you _ and your obsession for battle plans and tactics, if I went to your place, you’d keep me in bed for hours.”

 

“If it’s worth doing,” Trowa teased, thrusting his pelvis against Duo’s, “it’s worth doing right.”

 

The glitter of arousal in Duo’s eyes had almost eclipsed the earlier darkness. But Trowa could still see it there, lingering.

 

“Agreed. Still… we’re here now… and I know for a fact that  _ someone _ brought along the right supplies.”

 

Trowa snorted.

 

“You want our first time to be in the alley behind a  _ bar _ ?”

 

Duo shrugged, a wicked smirk sliding across his lips. He nipped at Trowa’s throat, finding that spot that made Trowa arch into him.

 

“I want us to  _ have _ a first time. So I can start thinking about the second. And the third. And the fourth. And damn, Trowa, the plans I’m making for the fifth time…”

 

Duo’s voice was just above a whisper, the words spilling from his lips against Trowa’s skin.

 

“Besides, it’ll give me something to think about when I’m sleeping by myself for the next two weeks.” Duo moved his right hand down the front of Trowa’s shirt and then lower, squeezing Trowa’s rapidly-hardening cock through the thick fabric of his jeans. “C’mon, Trowa,  _ fuck me _ .”

 

It wouldn’t be the first time Trowa had had sex in an alley. He didn’t know if it would be a first for Duo. He suspected it was, especially when Duo grimaced at the feel of the brick catching at his hair as Trowa kissed him again. This wasn’t the time or the place for lengthy prep, for torturing Duo with his mouth and fingers until he was crying out for more. It wasn’t at all how Trowa had pictured things between them.

 

He stared into the darkness in Duo’s eyes. 

 

Trowa traced Duo’s jaw with both hands before curving them to fit around his head and pull him closer.

 

“I’m not going to fuck you in an alley, Duo.”

 

There was a flash of anger, fueling that darkness, and Duo’s lips thinned.

 

“Not for our first time. Maybe for round six.”

 

It took a moment for Duo to relax, to let go of whatever had inspired the suggestion in the first place.

 

Trowa closed the space between them and kissed him again, dragging his lips over Duo’s until Duo tilted his face up and captured Trowa’s mouth.

 

While he kept Duo’s mouth occupied, Trowa let his hands wander. He skimmed over Duo’s sides, pausing when Duo sucked in a breath. Trowa made a note of that sensitive spot. Some other time, he would explore that in detail. 

 

He tugged Duo’s shirt up and smoothed one hand over Duo’s bare skin. 

 

Duo shivered at the touch, and when Trowa pinched his left nipple, Duo gasped into his mouth and pulled back from the kiss.

 

“What happened to ‘not here’ for our first time?”

 

He looked thoroughly kissed, and Trowa couldn’t help but smirk at the dazed expression on his face. No sign of the darkness  _ now _ .

 

Trowa leaned close and bit down on Duo’s right earlobe. Duo arched against him.

 

“I’m not going to fuck you here. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to take advantage of you wanting me.”

 

Something flashed in Duo’s eyes, but it was gone as soon as Trowa pressed against Duo’s trapped erection with his palm.

 

“Or don’t you want me on my knees?”

 

Duo’s eyes widened, and he licked his lips.

 

Trowa squeezed the hard flesh under his hand, and Duo rocked against him.

 

“Surely some of your fantasies about fucking me involved your cock in my mouth? Fucking my face? Filling my throat with your cum?”

 

“Fuck, Trowa,” Duo chuckled. “I take it back, you  _ don’t _ need practice with your phone sex skills.”

 

Trowa smirked.

 

“I’ve got excellent source material to work with at the moment,” he murmured.

 

He put one hand against the wall, just beside Duo’s head, and shifted his other to the fly of Duo’s jeans.

 

One-handed, he unfastened the fly and then slipped his hand under the thin fabric of Duo’s boxers.

 

He found Duo’s cock, hard and hot and the head already slick with precum.

 

“Well?” he challenged Duo, pressing his thumb against the head of his cock and then dragging it over the sensitive flesh underneath.

 

Duo sucked in a breath and then kissed Trowa again, hands digging into Trowa’s shoulders as Trowa continued to caress him.

 

He fisted his hand around Duo’s cock, stroking the shaft up and down until Duo was thrusting against him.

 

Trowa moved his hand lower, giving Duo’s balls a gentle squeeze that had him making a sound and thrusting his tongue deeper into Trowa’s mouth.

 

Duo moaned when Trowa pulled away from the kiss, and he had to smirk at the expression on the shorter man’s face.

 

He shoved Duo’s jeans down his thighs, allowing Duo’s cock to spring free.

 

“Should I get on my knees?”

 

“Fuck yes,” Duo breathed, and Trowa chuckled as he sank down. He kept his eyes fixed on Duo’s, looking up at him through the fringe of hair that fell over his own face.

 

He pressed his lips to the head of Duo’s cock, a teasing kiss that had Duo releasing a breath in what might have been a laugh.

 

Duo definitely wasn’t laughing a moment later, however. Trowa flicked his tongue over the head and then swirled it around the underside.

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Duo moaned again. His fingers clutched at the jeans riding low on his hips.

 

Trowa ran his tongue along the shaft, savoring the taste and feel of Duo and the sounds of pleasure Duo made. 

 

He lifted Duo’s cock up and continued to explore Duo, licking the sensitive skin of his scrotum before teasingly sucking on the flesh. He tightened his grip on Duo and started to stroke the shaft, twisting his hand as he did so and making sure to rub against the head.

 

“Jesus, fucking- Trowa!” Duo’s hips surged forward as Trowa licked his perineum.

 

“Oh, sorry. Should I not do that?”

 

The look in Duo’s eyes suggested a severe lack of appreciation for Trowa’s teasing.

 

“Would you rather I did this?”

 

He put his mouth back on the head of Duo’s cock, parting his lips slowly as he pushed against the hard length, letting it pierce his mouth.

 

Duo groaned.

 

“You’re such a fucking tease, Barton,” he growled.

 

“Mhm,” Trowa hummed in agreement.

 

“ _ Oh my  _ God,” Duo whined, half-amused, half-exasperated. Completely at Trowa’s mercy.

 

Trowa took as much of Duo into his mouth as he could, the angle not great for deepthroating, and Duo on the larger side in any case. He traced over the shaft with his tongue as he pulled back.

 

After admiring the sheen of his saliva, Trowa met Duo’s gaze again. 

 

“You never said, do you fantasize about fucking my mouth?”

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Duo groaned. “Of course I do.”

 

Trowa smirked.

 

“Here’s your chance.”

 

Duo licked his lips.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Trowa shrugged.

 

“I’ll let you know if I’m not enjoying it. Don’t worry.”

 

He teased his tongue over Duo again, and the other man gave a shallow thrust, his cock just barely parting Trowa’s lips.

 

“Harder than that,” Trowa encouraged.

 

Duo thrust again, slow and deep, and Trowa opened his mouth to accommodate the movement. Duo’s cock nudged the back of his throat, just past the point of comfort, and Trowa forced himself to relax.

 

“That okay?” Duo asked.

 

Trowa nodded and sucked on the cock still filling his mouth.

 

Duo set a tentative pace, each movement careful and slow.

 

Trowa suspected that Duo hadn’t been with too many partners who wanted or enjoyed this sort of penetration. 

 

He reached for Duo’s balls again, fondling them and eliciting another groan and a forceful thrust from Duo. When he traced over Duo’s perineum again and teased at his anus, Duo finally let himself go.

 

His movements became erratic, hips pumping as he fucked Trowa’s mouth, and his eyes were dark and narrowed as he stared down at the sight of their bodies joining together.

 

Trowa held his gaze, stroking against Duo’s most sensitive spots, and alternating between sucking on the cock filling his mouth and wrapping his tongue around it and humming. Both seemed to excite Duo.

 

“Fuck, Trowa,  _ fuck _ ,” he moaned, voice barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing.

 

His thighs trembled, and the fingers that had previously been clawing their way into his own skin spasmed.

 

“Tro, I’m close, I’m gonna come, I’m-” Duo’s words became unintelligible as he groaned and gripped Trowa’s head.

 

Duo’s cum tasted salty and only slightly bitter. Wave after wave coated Trowa’s throat and he held Duo’s gaze as he rode out his orgasm, holding onto Trowa and shuddering with ecstasy.

 

When Duo finally dropped his hands back to his sides, he slumped against the wall and closed his eyes.

 

“God.  _ Fuck _ , Trowa. That was amazing.”

 

Trowa released the softening cock slowly, giving it one last gentle caress with his tongue before rising back to his feet.

 

“Good. Maybe now you won’t forget about me while you’re on the beach.”

 

Duo snorted and wrapped one hand around Trowa’s neck.

 

“I think I’m going to have the opposite problem.”

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

 

“What problem would that be?”

 

Duo smirked and pulled Trowa into a kiss.

 

“The problem of not being able to  _ stop _ thinking about you while I’m on the beach,” he said.

 

It was Trowa’s turn to smirk.

 

“I fail to see how that could possibly be a problem.”

 

“Walking around with a hard-on for two weeks isn’t exactly my idea of pleasant.”

 

“Mm. You did mention something about phone sex.”

 

Duo groaned.

 

“You’re trying to fucking kill me, aren’t you?”

 

Instead of answering, Trowa kissed him again.

 

When they parted, Duo’s face was flushed, his lips swollen and his eyes hooded. It was a breathtaking look.

 

“Jesus. Next time, you’re going to call in sick, and we’re going to spend three days in bed together.”

 

Trowa ran his thumb over Duo’s lips.

 

He smirked when Duo gave him a playful bite.

 

“I’ve got vacation days saved up. We can work something out.”

 

Duo laughed, and then sighed as he reached down and set his clothes to rights.

 

“I hate to do this, but I should really get going. I-”

 

Trowa kissed him again.

 

“It’s okay. I appreciate you coming.”

 

Duo waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

 

“I appreciated it too.”

 

Trowa rolled his eyes.

 

“You want to go sign autographs before you leave?”

 

Duo snorted, and his eyes took on a shuttered look.

 

Trowa wished he hadn’t said anything. He could  _ see _ Duo’s mind drifting from the apprentices to Harlan and the man’s cold reaction.

 

“I’m sorry,” Trowa said.

 

“It’s whatever,” Duo shrugged.

 

“It’s not whatever.”

 

“It is,” Duo insisted, jaw set.

 

Trowa sighed and tugged Duo away from the wall.

 

He kept their fingers laced together as they walked back into the bar, not letting go until Duo pulled away from him.

 

“Call me?” Duo asked, sounding just a little unsure.

 

Trowa ignored the way that tone tugged at him, ignored the desire to pull Duo against him and kiss him one last time.

 

“Of course.”

 

Duo nodded, waved at the apprentices ogling him, and left.

 

Trowa watched him walk out, watched him through the front window of the bar, and then he looked for Harlan.

 

The master carpenter was back at the bar.

 

“What the fuck was that?” Trowa demanded, keeping his voice low but making no effort to hide his anger.

 

Harlan gave him a hard look and then shook his head.

 

“I always figured you were involved. Even before Heero Yuy started coming around. I figured… you were young. You were  _ too _ young. Maybe you helped him? Maybe you took care of him when all of ‘em went into hiding?”

 

Harlan sighed and his face shifted, strength fading away and revealing the tired, aged man that he was.

 

“He killed my boy.  _ He _ \- he took away the one thing I had left. And  _ you _ …”

 

Harlan looked away and shook his head.

 

“How can you just  _ fuck _ a murderer and look at yourself in the mirror after it? Huh? You  _ know _ what he did! You-”

 

Harlan reached for Trowa’s shirt and Trowa grabbed his wrist, battling against him and forcing his hand back to the bartop. He kept his grip tight.

 

“ _ I _ am a murderer. Heero Yuy is a murderer. We were  _ all _ murderers. Do you think any of us will ever forget that? Do you think we can  _ ever _ look at ourselves in the mirror and see anything except the blood on our hands?  _ Duo _ \- Duo did what he had to. He did what no one else would.”

 

Trowa realized his grip was too tight, realized he was going to leave bruises, realized Harlan’s arthritis was going to make it so much worse. 

 

He forced himself to let go.

 

“I’m sorry about your son. Heero would be too. And Duo-”

 

Trowa could so easily imagine the look in Duo’s eyes if Harlan tossed that accusation at him, if Harlan called him a murderer.

 

“Your son shouldn’t have died. And Duo should never have had to kill him.”

 

It was likely the  _ worst _ apology Trowa could offer. But it was also the  _ only _ one he could offer.

 

He laid down money on the bar to cover his tab and then walked over to Sarah’s table.

 

She took in his dark expression with raised eyebrows, but passed over Diana without comment.

 

Trowa grabbed his bag from the front of the bar and looked back at Harlan.

 

The master carpenter was staring down at the bar top in front of him, shoulders slumped and head bowed.

 

Trowa walked out.

 

-o-

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Wishing Kangofu-CB the happiest day of birth. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for letting me write you a thing!

 

A/N2: Title inspired by the HAIM song by the same name.

 

A/N3: Always, always thanks to Ro for beta reading and supporting me. You are, quite literally, the best. I also want to thank ChronicWhimsy, who graciously gave me another set of eyes and editing on this.

 

A/N4: Look, in the future I can hope we have all switched to metric like rational beings. But the reality is that I grew up on the Imperial system and I cannot be bothered to do all of the conversions from inches/feet to meters, especially with Trowa as a carpenter. I’m sorry.

 

Warnings: angst, language, sex

Pairings: 2x3

 

_ Ready for You _

 

Chapter 8

 

Diana had decided that the sound of anyone walking past the apartment was worthy of a chorus of shrill barks as she ran the length of the living room, keen to alert Trowa of impending doom.

 

As frequently as Trowa ordered delivery, he had assumed Diana would grow accustomed to the sound of unseen humans.

 

He had been wrong.

 

And tonight was no exception.

 

Long before Trowa would have been able to hear approaching footsteps, had he been able to hear  _ anything _ over Diana, she started to bark and race around in front of the couch.

 

Trowa remained on the couch, stretched out and reading, but he regarded the puppy’s antics with weary amusement.

 

And then someone knocked on the door.

 

Diana went racing for the door, nearly colliding with it face-first before she came to a halt and practically leapt at it.

 

Trowa hadn't ordered delivery, and there was only one person he expected tonight. 

 

He rose from the couch and smoothed down his clothes, feeling ridiculous as he did so.

 

A quick hand through his hair, attempting to smooth it back, produced no discernible results.

 

With a sigh, he reached for the door.

 

Duo looked like he had just stepped off the beach and into Trowa’s hallway.

 

He had sunglasses hooked into the v of his shirt, dragging it lower and showing off the faintest blush of gold on his chest. Trowa had never seen Duo in shorts before, and the gray khaki looked good on him, fitted and casual and showing off calves that Trowa definitely didn’t think should be hidden. His hair was loose around his shoulders, wavier than normal, as if Duo had been battling against breezes and humidity from the ocean.

 

His nose was red. Sunburnt from his days on the beach and carelessly overlooked when it was clear that Duo had applied sunscreen with care to the rest of his face

 

“I told you to put on sunblock.”

 

Duo’s smirk was instant, contagious, and Trowa tried to ignore the way his heartbeat raced at the warmth in Duo’s eyes.

 

“You also told me you were going to fuck me on your table. And fuck me against your door. And something about your bed.  _ And _ you told me you were going to suck me off in your shower. And tease me until you make me beg for your cock. Which of those do you think I spent more time thinking about?”

 

Trowa smirked and crossed his arms. He reached out and ran one hand over the door in question. Duo’s eyes followed the movement.

 

“You did seem fond of this,” he murmured. “But if I recall, the  _ table _ was your favorite.”

 

Duo had called one night, while Trowa was just sitting down to dinner and Duo was waiting for everyone else to get ready to go out, and Trowa had described in intimate detail the meal he  _ wished _ was spread out before him.

 

“So, you gonna invite me in?”

 

Trowa stood aside and made a gesture, a ridiculous flourish that had Duo chuckling and shaking his head.

 

Diana scrambled across the floor, and Duo bent to pick her up. He held her in his arms, angling his chin away so that her tongue couldn’t quite reach his mouth, and looked around.

 

“Nice place.”

 

It was. Trowa had lived in a shitty studio apartment when he worked for the Preventers - a place that, if he was lucky, he spent one night in a month in. After he left, he had been determined to find an apartment that he could stand to live in.

 

The building was pre-colonial, but it had been renovated countless times over the centuries, most recently less than a decade ago. The floors were all repurposed hardwood, smoothed and laminated together to resemble old Terran flooring. The walls were exposed brick, painted white, and the tall windows meant that the apartment was hardly ever dark, light streaming in and bouncing off the bright walls and reflecting on the polished floor. It was bright, but not in the artificial way that shipboard or colonial lighting could make things. It was  _ warm _ .

 

He hadn’t intended to fill the apartment with furniture - had started off with a futon and a couch. But over the years, he had collected things - old Terran bookcases, a desk, Craftsmen chairs, an oak trestle table and a pair of benches, a sideboard, a dresser, a few chests.  _ Things _ .

 

Things that he couldn’t throw in a bag and take with him on a moment’s notice. 

 

“Thanks.”

 

Duo turned around at the sound of Trowa closing the door, and he arched an eyebrow.

 

“So, I was promised food.”

 

“You were,” Trowa agreed. He took Diana from Duo’s hands and deposited her on the couch.

 

He reached for Duo, hooking a finger through a belt loop and hauling the other man close.

 

Duo smirked up at him and slid his hands over Trowa’s shoulders and around his neck.

 

It felt good to have Duo in his arms again, to feel him and smell him.

 

“We can go out, or get delivery.” Trowa trailed his hands over Duo’s shoulders, down his back, and to his ass. He gave it a squeeze, pulling Duo even closer in the process.

 

Duo arched an eyebrow.

 

“Hm. Seems like you’re too hungry to do either.”

 

“Do you mind?” Trowa leaned down, and Duo tilted his head back to meet him.

 

The kiss was light, a tentative press of lips as they readjusted to each other.

 

“Mind what?” Duo’s eyes were practically dancing, and the smirk on his lips had taken on a teasing slant.

 

“Mind if I fuck you on my table before I feed you.”

 

Duo looked over at the table.

 

“How sturdy is it?”

 

“Very,” Trowa assured him. He brushed his lips over Duo’s left ear, and Duo shivered. “I can fuck you as hard as you want.”

 

“Damn, Barton. You  _ do _ know how to make up for lost time, don’t you?”

 

Trowa smirked.

 

“So, is that a yes?”

 

Duo snorted.

 

“It’s a yes,  _ please, _ and you know it.”

 

“Table manners?” Trowa kissed Duo again, deeper, mouths parted and tongues tangled. “What else did you learn on L2 that you’ve been hiding?”

 

Duo chuckled and plucked at Trowa’s t-shirt.

 

“I learned that you’re supposed to  _ dress _ accordingly for dinner.”

 

“Mm. That’s true.” Trowa reached for the fly of Duo’s shorts. “These will have to go.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Duo angled his head down, nuzzling against Trowa’s throat with his nose before sweeping his tongue across the sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder.

 

Trowa fumbled with the zip and Duo chuckled, warm air puffing across Trowa’s damp flesh, and he shuddered in pleasure.

 

“Want me to help you out of yours?” Duo asked, hands drifting to Trowa’s waist and fingertips running under the denim.

 

“Yes. Please,” he added, and Duo chuckled again.

 

Duo was half-hard already, cock straining at his boxers, and Trowa decided to push those down as well. Duo followed his lead, taking the initiative to give Trowa’s cock a few firm strokes in the process.

 

Trowa thrust into Duo’s fist involuntarily. 

 

“So, what kind of rules does this establishment have regarding shirts?” Duo asked.

 

“Very strict ones - absolutely no shirts allowed.”

 

Duo stepped back and pulled his sunglasses free from his shirt. He set them down on the coffee table and then reached for the hem of his shirt.

 

Trowa stood still, watching the reveal. He’d felt Duo’s body before, that night in Duo’s apartment, had caressed nearly every inch of him. But he hadn’t  _ seen _ him.

 

He could clearly see a tan line, around Duo’s shoulders and neck. A tank. 

 

Trowa could understand why Duo had chosen to cover up, instead of parading around half-naked on the beach as, no doubt, everyone else had. He had been with men, over the years, who saw his scars and recoiled. He had been with others who saw them and devoted hours to caressing them without bothering to find out how Trowa had earned them.

 

He reached out to trace over the remnants of war, the wounds that would never really heal.

 

Duo swallowed hard and met his gaze.

 

Trowa pulled his own shirt off and tossed it to the floor. Fair was fair.

 

“Aren’t we a fucking pair?” Duo breathed.

 

“We are,” Trowa agreed. It was absolutely liberating to be with  _ Duo _ , to stand before him naked and know that whatever he saw in Duo’s eyes was honest. Duo  _ knew _ Trowa. 

 

It was almost daunting, anxiety prickling at Trowa’s arousal in a way that he couldn’t decide whether or not he liked.

 

Duo’s lips met his in a kiss that Trowa doubted he would ever forget. There was heat and passion and electricity that seemed to surge between them, but more than that, there was understanding. There was forgiveness.

 

When they parted, Duo’s eyes were dark, his cheeks flushed and his hair a mess from Trowa’s hands tangling in the strands.

 

Duo smiled up at him. 

 

“Are we properly attired yet?”

 

“Nearly.”

 

Trowa tugged Duo over to the table and eased him down on it. He kept it bare, only occasionally remembering to put out the centerpiece Cathy had gifted him years ago when she came to visit, and he was grateful for his own foresight in keeping the table free of decor.

 

Duo smirked up at him and folded his hands under his head.

 

“Well?”

 

Trowa ran one hand over Duo’s thigh, down his knee and around his calf.

 

Duo shivered at the touch and drew in a sharp breath.

 

Trowa traced over the delicate bones in Duo’s ankle and then tugged at his shoe.

 

“No shoes. Or socks.”

 

Duo laughed and obligingly lifted his other leg so that Trowa could remove his last articles of clothing.

 

Trowa looked over the man spread out before him, and for a moment it felt surreal. Duo Maxwell, naked and eager for  _ him. _

 

“I should get the lube,” he said as he ran his hands back up Duo’s thighs, parting them and caressing Duo’s ass.

 

“Yeah, you should,” Duo agreed.

 

Trowa leaned down and pressed a kiss to Duo’s belly, laving at the shrapnel wound just above his navel.

 

“Don’t move.”

 

“Better hurry back. You know how well I do with orders.”

 

Trowa snorted a laugh but moved away. As he walked into his bedroom, he looked over his shoulder to see Duo watching him.

 

“Just admiring the view,” Duo said with a grin.

 

Trowa shook his head and went into the bedroom. He retrieved the lube and a condom from his nightstand.

 

Walking back into the living room, Trowa saw that Diana had settled, somewhat unhappily, on the couch, and was back to work on the rawhide chew he had given her that afternoon.

 

This wasn’t the first time he had had someone over, and he had learned that she didn’t do well being locked in a separate room. He had also learned that scratching and whimpering was very much a mood killer unless he was  _ very _ drunk.

 

She looked up at his approach, sniffing eagerly at the prospect of treats in his hand, but realized immediately that what he had was  _ not  _ for her and returned to her chew.

 

“I thought I said not to move.”

 

Duo was still lying on the table, one hand behind his head, but the other was industriously stroking his cock.

 

“I did remind you how good I am at listening.” Duo gave himself one last stroke, tugging on the head of his cock and biting his lip at the sensation.

 

Trowa had to kiss him, had to replace Duo’s hand with his own and work over his cock until Duo was gasping into his mouth and clutching his shoulders.

 

“Fuck, I've missed you,” Duo moaned.

 

Trowa knew it was the sex, knew it was arousal and Duo needing to  _ say _ something, but the words still put him off-kilter. 

 

_ He _ had missed Duo, had found himself texting Duo with the most inane observations and responding to Duo’s texts and calls with alacrity. For the two weeks that Duo had been gone, they had spoken on the phone nearly every day, had had six rather memorable forays into phone sex sprinkled among those calls, but even though Duo had been hundreds of miles away, he had been a constant presence in Trowa’s life. Always on Trowa’s mind, always the one that Trowa wanted to see, to talk to, to touch. 

 

It was disconconcerting.

 

Trowa hadn’t felt this way about  _ anyone _ in years, perhaps not ever. 

 

He wasn’t really sure what to do with that, with the knowledge that Duo had worked his way past years of isolation, that Trowa had opened the door and welcomed him in, that he wanted  _ more _ , that he was terrified of  _ more _ .

 

Drawing in a deep breath, Trowa forced himself back to the present, back to the naked man under him and two weeks of pent-up sexual frustration.

 

Another kiss, teasing, tongues battling and Duo smiling against his lips, and then Trowa stepped back.

 

Duo regarded him with raised eyebrows as Trowa pulled a chair to the head of the table and sat down between Duo’s legs.

 

“What are you doing, Tro?”

 

Trowa gave him a patronizing look.

 

“Don’t tell me you eat standing up.”

 

“What-”

 

Trowa pulled Duo’s thighs apart and licked Duo from ass to balls.

 

Duo let out a startled laugh, and Trowa smirked at the sound and pressed his mouth against Duo’s perineum.

 

The other man held himself still as Trowa caressed the sensitive skin, traversing the path to Duo’s anus before doubling back to tease him again.

 

“Christ, Tro, are you trying to kill me?”

 

“This is hardly the most efficient method,” Trowa snorted, and Duo shivered against him.

 

“No, but it’s sure as hell going to do me in if you don’t-”

 

Duo trailed off, his words becoming a groan as Trowa swirled his tongue around Duo’s anus. He carefully, slowly pressed his way inside, savoring the scent and taste of Duo.

 

Trowa took his time, circling around the outside before dipping his tongue inside of Duo’s heat, gradually loosening the tight flesh until he could slip more than just the tip of his tongue inside.

 

“Fuck,” Duo moaned, and Trowa saw that he was clenching the sides of the table, his knuckles white.

 

He thrust his tongue as deeply as he could, and Duo squirmed against his face.

 

The angle wasn’t quite right for Trowa to get at Duo’s prostate, but he used one hand to caress Duo’s perineum, gently applying pressure to the spot until Duo was bucking up against him.

 

“Please, Tro,  _ please _ fuck me.”

 

He couldn’t help but smirk as he pulled away.

 

“I did say I was going to make you beg,” he reminded Duo.

 

The other man laughed again, lifting his head to meet Trowa’s eyes.

 

“You did,” Duo agreed. “You also said you were going to fuck me.”

 

Trowa rose to his feet and shook his head.

 

“So impatient.”

 

“So  _ desperate _ for your cock,” Duo corrected.

 

He hooked his feet around Trowa’s hips and pulled him close, so that Trowa’s erection nudged against the spot where Trowa’s tongue had just been.

 

Trowa rolled his eyes and reached for the lube.

 

“Here I was, planning on a four-course meal…”

 

Duo laughed again.

 

“What, ass for starters, and then the meat course?” He gestured to his own erection.

 

Trowa leaned down to give it a playful lick.

 

“How did you know?”

 

Duo’s eyes were twinkling, aroused and amused, and it felt so  _ good _ to just smirk back at him.

 

Trowa coated one finger with lube and worked it into Duo. Rimming, while something Trowa had always enjoyed, wasn’t the most practical method for prep. 

 

Duo hitched his legs up a little further, and it opened him even more for Trowa.

 

“Christ, I’ve been thinking about this since that night on the beach,” Duo moaned as Trowa added a second finger.

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow at him.

 

“I’ve been thinking about this since you kissed me after that awful play.”

 

“Yeah, well, your mind’s always been in the gutter. Fuck, Tro, that’s-  _ Fuck _ , right there.”

 

He had found Duo’s prostate, and stroking against it from the inside and the outside was producing an incredible result.

 

Duo’s mouth fell open as he moaned, and he screwed his eyes shut. With his hair spread out and his body taut, he looked as if he were barely holding himself together.

 

A third finger easily parted Duo, and after a few rather perfunctory thrusts, Trowa pulled away and reached for the condom.

 

He rolled the latex on quickly, slathering more lube over himself for good measure, and then lined the head of his cock up with Duo’s body.

 

“Yes,” Duo encouraged him. “Yes, please, Trowa.”

 

It took all of his willpower to go slowly, to ease inside the tantalizing sheath of Duo’s body instead of filling Duo instantly.

 

He adjusted Duo’s legs, lifting the right over his left shoulder and holding onto Duo’s left thigh as he sank further into Duo’s body.

 

The sensation of heat and Duo’s firm body clinging to him, pressing against him and simultaneously seeming to pull him further in and push him out, was nearly overwhelming.

 

“You feel incredible,” Trowa breathed.

 

“Right back at you. Trowa, just-  _ Please _ .”

 

Perhaps he was torturing both of them more than he needed to. 

 

Trowa pressed the rest of his length deep into Duo’s body in one quick, fluid motion that had both of them groaning. 

 

“Okay?” Trowa asked him, and Duo nodded eagerly.

 

“Fuck yes, okay.  _ Very  _ okay.”

 

Trowa chuckled and pressed a kiss to Duo’s calf resting on his shoulder, and bit into the skin gently.

 

Duo rocked against him, hips rolling and body tugging at Trowa’s cock.

 

“You said something about fucking me as hard as I wanted?” Duo panted.

 

“I did,” Trowa agreed. He pulled out and slowly impaled himself again.

 

“I think I’d like it  _ very _ hard, Tro.”

 

“Yeah?” Trowa repeated the motion, putting force and speed behind it, and Duo’s body slid back on the table an inch from the impact.

 

“Fuck yes,” Duo moaned.

 

Trowa happily gave Duo what he wanted. What they  _ both _ wanted.

 

He pulled out almost entirely, and then slammed his cock back into Duo, and Duo moaned again.

 

It was an intoxicating sound, pure pleasure without any inhibition, and Trowa made it a goal to elicit that sound with every thrust.

 

Duo’s body fit him so perfectly, clinging to him as he pulled out, drawing him back in when he pushed forward. It felt amazing, and the slap of his flesh against Duo’s, accompanied by Duo’s moans and his own harsh breathing, was incredibly erotic.

 

He reached for Duo’s cock, bouncing with the force of their coupling, head leaking precum and the shaft an angry, neglected red.

 

“Oh God, yes.” Duo thrust up into his hand as Trowa fisted around him.

 

Trowa pumped Duo’s cock in one hand while he continued to forcefully pound into his pliant body, all sense of rhythm lost to him as he moved in tune to Duo’s body, reacting to Duo’s pleasure and the drive of his own, the heat pooling in his loins, the heaviness in his balls.

 

“Close?” Trowa asked,  _ begged _ , Duo.

 

“Ye- yeah,” Duo confirmed. 

 

He adjusted, shifting further down the table, closer to Trowa, and Trowa slipped out.

 

They both groaned in frustration, and Trowa had to abandon Duo’s cock so that he could reposition himself.

 

Duo took the opportunity to start stroking himself. His movements were confident, his grip firm. Trowa followed his pace, and soon they were both on the cusp again.

 

“Look at me.” It came out a plea, but Duo opened his eyes and stared up at him, the expression in his indigo depths almost bewildered.

 

Duo’s hand was moving feverishly now, his thighs trembling, and Trowa let himself go, losing all control, and slammed forcefully into Duo’s body.

 

“Ugh-ahh!” Duo cried out, body almost bowing off the table as cum shot from his cock, streaking across his chest. His body clenched around Trowa, drawing him in further, the tight press nearly unbearable, and Trowa came with a near-shout.

 

There was nothing blissful about his release. It was shatteringly intense, and as Trowa surrendered to the pleasure, he almost collapsed on top of Duo, just barely managing to support himself with one hand propped on the table.

 

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, Trowa’s softening cock still buried in Duo and Duo still spread out on the table like some bacchanal feast, but eventually Trowa felt steady enough to move again.

 

Duo groaned as Trowa pulled out, and Trowa felt no small measure of regret himself. He could happily spend the rest of his life fucking Duo, he decided.

 

“I’m going to get a towel,” Trowa said.

 

“Good. I’m just going to lay here,” Duo waved an arm lazily, eyes still closed, “and try to remember my name.”

 

Trowa chuckled and pressed a kiss to Duo’s chest, just over his heart.

 

In the bathroom, he pulled off the condom and tossed it into the trash before washing himself off and then washing his hands.

 

He rinsed his mouth out, swishing the minty wash around for several seconds before spitting it out into the sink and then reaching for a hand towel and wetting half of it.

 

Duo still hadn’t moved, except to bend his knees and rest his feet on the table.

 

Trowa cleaned him off, pressing several kisses to the damp skin on Duo’s chest before moving up to kiss him.

 

Duo responded without hesitation, lips and teeth tugging at Trowa’s mouth.

 

“Still hungry?” Duo asked him.

 

“I think, where you’re concerned, I might be insatiable.”

 

Duo smirked and then sat up.

 

He winced, and Trowa helped him down from the table.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Duo shrugged off the apology.

 

“Don’t be. I sure as hell wasn’t complaining. Next time, might be better if I’m on my stomach.”

 

“Next time?”

 

“Oh, you didn’t want seconds?”

 

Trowa smirked and pulled Duo against him. He gave his ass a firm squeeze.

 

“Seconds, thirds… as much as I can get. Insatiable, remember?”

 

Duo returned the smirk  _ and _ the squeeze.

 

“Maybe a little switch of positions next time?” he asked.

 

Trowa nodded.

 

“I won’t even make you beat me in darts. It might be too long of a wait.”

 

Duo snorted and rolled his eyes.

 

“You’re mouthy after a good fuck.”

 

Trowa shrugged. He didn’t think it was a pattern, considering that most times both he and his partner found the most expedient way to part company after sex, but there was no denying that he felt… nearly  _ giddy _ .

 

“Might just be actual hunger.”

 

“Mm. That, or you’ve just been fucked silly.”

 

“I’m not silly.”

 

“Uh-huh. You’re  _ grinning _ at me, Trowa Barton.”

 

He probably was. He didn’t much care.

 

“So, delivery?” Duo asked as he stepped away and stretched.

 

Trowa forced himself to look away from the sinuous movements of Duo’s body and meet his amused gaze.

 

“Pizza?”

 

Duo rolled his eyes.

 

“Heero warned me you had a thing for pizza.”

 

“Part of his ‘this is going to end horribly’ talk?”

 

Duo shrugged, and Trowa wished he hadn’t said it. He could see some of Duo’s amusement fade, could feel his  _ own _ buoyancy lessen.

 

“Pizza is fine. Mushrooms?”

 

Trowa nodded and, still naked, walked into the kitchen to place the order.

 

After calling it in, he poured two glasses of water and walked back into the living room to find Duo pulling on his shorts. His face had settled into concerned lines, eyes not quite meeting Trowa’s.

 

Duo accepted the water and gulped at it greedily.

 

Trowa drank his own at a more sedate pace, considering Duo and wondering if he was going to speak up.

 

“So...this… this was amazing.”

 

“Agreed,” Trowa said cautiously. 

 

He set his glass of water down on the table and reached for his trousers. It felt a little ridiculous to stand there naked when Duo was half-dressed and wearing  _ that _ expression.

 

Duo chewed on his lower lip.

 

“Why don’t you date?”

 

“What?” It wasn’t at all what Trowa had expected Duo to say. Then again, he wasn’t sure  _ what _ he had really expected Duo to say.

 

“You- I’m seriously the first person you’ve dated?”

 

Trowa shrugged.

 

“Yes.”

 

“ _ Why _ ? You- you’re good at this shit. Dating. Fucking. Reading me poetry on the damn phone.”

 

Trowa flushed a little at the memory.

 

It had been the fourth night of Duo’s vacation, and Duo had called late, when everyone else at the house had been asleep and Trowa had been drifting off with Ogg open and falling from his hands. Duo had insisted he read his favorite poem, and then listened to Trowa explain why he liked it before teasing Trowa into a surprisingly enjoyable debate about Ogg’s use of space as a metaphor for the human psyche. 

 

“There was never anyone I was interested in,” Trowa said, hating the defensive tone to his voice.

 

Duo raised his eyebrows.

 

“Right. In all your life, I’m the  _ first _ person you wanted to date? Me? Duo Maxwell.”

 

“No, of course you aren’t,” Trowa  _ almost _ snapped. He hated when Duo said his own name that way, as if he was the scourge of humanity. As if, perhaps, Trowa was as well.

 

Duo’s eyebrows remained elevated, and he sucked in his cheeks.

 

“Quatre. And Wufei.”

 

“Uh huh.” Duo crossed his arms. “I always wondered about you and Quatre. Always figured you two would end up together.”

 

So had Trowa, at one point. He had fallen for Quatre hard and fast, had been blinded by his purity - his strength of purpose and his goodness. Quatre’s smiles could be overwhelming, his empathy eviscerating. It had been too much. And, besides, Quatre had been recalled to L4 to manage his family’s vast holdings and Trowa’s leash had been held firmly in Une’s hand.

 

“It didn’t work out,” Trowa said simply, refusing to wallow in the distant pain.

 

Duo’s eyes were knowing, however, and Trowa looked away.

 

“You said and Wufei? I mean, I knew about you and Heero. Hell, I should probably  _ thank _ you for you and Heero.”

 

Trowa frowned.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Before your little tour of earth and - I’m assuming - teaching him how to fuck. He was awful our first time. Much, _much_ better after you showed him the ropes.”

 

Trowa had wondered, about Duo and Heero. Wondered when they had ended things and when Heero had decided to be with Relena instead.

 

Duo must have seen the question on his face.

 

“He’s better with her. She, you know, she brings out the best in him or whatever. And he’s happy. But Heero and I never  _ dated _ \- we blew shit up and we fucked so we didn’t go crazy. I’m talking about  _ you _ , and your whole ‘not interested in humanity except for other Gundam pilots’.”

 

It felt like a dig, and Trowa couldn’t help but bristle at the implication.

 

“What is your point, Duo? Why does it matter that I haven’t dated anyone else?”

 

“Because you-  _ Trowa _ . Come  _ on _ . You’re like… the perfect fucking guy, but you only do hook-ups? Until  _ me _ ? What the fuck is that about? I mean- Fuck. I don’t get it.”

 

“No one else knows who I am.”

 

It felt wrong, felt cowardly, to confess the truth to  _ Duo Maxwell _ , the man who couldn’t hide.

 

“Trust me, that’s not a bad thing,” Duo muttered.

 

“Isn’t it? How am I supposed to explain the scars? The flashbacks? The nightmares? What kind of amusing childhood anecdotes am I supposed to share? Grand plans for the future? There’s too much  _ shit _ , Duo - and there’s not enough of  _ me _ to be worth it.”

 

“Okay, that’s fucking bullshit, Trowa. What the fuck do you mean there’s not enough of  _ you _ ?”

 

Trowa opened his mouth, but Duo plowed ahead.

 

“Because you stole your name? Because you don’t remember your family? Fuck that.  _ You _ are worth it, Trowa. You’re a real fucking person, and you deserve to be- Look, Trowa, there’s  _ enough _ of  _ you _ . Look at this fucking apartment. Your fucking dog? Your books? Your really questionable taste in Terran sports? That’s all  _ nothing _ ? Or what, that’s all some remnant of the first Trowa Barton that you’ve incorporated into your identity?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did he like weird freeform jazz in the park?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did he like to build shit?”

 

“No. The opposite.”

 

“And was he obsessed with rimming?”

 

Trowa flushed.

 

“I’m not obsessed.”

 

“You talked about it, in detail,  _ three times _ on the phone,  _ and _ just gave me the most thorough rimjob of my life. You’re obsessed - and I’m not complaining.”

 

“That wasn’t thorough,” Trowa scoffed, wondering what kind of half-assed rimjobs Duo had been subjected to before.

 

“So, tell me, what fucking part of you isn’t enough of  _ you _ ?”

 

Trowa glared at Duo, who glared right back.

 

“Why are you picking this fight?” He still didn’t understand  _ what _ had motivated this, and not being able to figure it out was irritating.

 

“Because you’re better than me! Because- because Trowa, I’m fucked up and I’m  _ fucked, _ and you’re going to realize how much better you can do than  _ me _ and-”

 

“Better than  _ the _ Duo Maxwell?”

 

Duo’s glare turned chilly.

 

“I know who I am, Trowa. I know what people think of me. You don’t have to deal with this, with me. You don’t have to  _ hide _ who you are or slum with-”

 

“I don’t think you  _ do  _ know who you are,” Trowa cut him off. “Because  _ the _ Duo Maxwell is a hero, and a good person, with really unfortunate taste in music.”

 

“I killed people, Trowa! I killed people, and every fucking day I walk down the street and wonder if I’ve killed someone’s mother or father or son or daughter or-”

 

“I do the same thing, Duo. All of us do. I  _ get  _ it, Duo. I was there. And I’m here now. And this fight makes no fucking sense. There isn’t a  _ better _ for me than you.”

 

Duo was still glaring, arms wrapped around himself defensively.

 

“What about Harlan?”

 

“What about him?” Trowa snapped.

 

Duo gave him a steady look, and Trowa sighed.

 

He ran a hand through his hair and tried to think of what he could say to appease Duo.

 

Harlan hadn’t spoken to Trowa since the night at the bar, had used the apprentices as go-betweens and spent a decent chunk of time working with Muhammad on a project and forcing Trowa to ask one of the other master carpenters for help. Sarah had noticed immediately, had greeted him with a raised eyebrow every day and a knowing look as he clocked out every night.

 

But Trowa had said all that he could say. It was entirely up to Harlan whether or not their entire relationship crumbled.

 

“He’s not going to be the only guy who hates you because of me,” Duo said, his voice soft.

 

_ Hate _ .

 

Trowa sincerely hoped Harlan didn’t hate him.

 

But if he did…

 

“So I should just cut you lose?”

 

Duo shrugged.

 

“It would be easier, probably.”

 

“It would be stupid, and I would be miserable.”

 

Before Duo could say anything else, Diana jumped off the couch and started to bark.

 

Duo looked at her with concern.

 

“Delivery guy,” Trowa explained.

 

Sure enough, a moment later, there was a knock on the door.

 

Trowa dug out his wallet and picked up Diana. He passed her to Duo and then opened the door.

 

The delivery man was just barely not a boy, and as he looked from one half-dressed man to the other, his eyes widened.

 

“Uh…”

 

Trowa passed over a bill large enough to cover the pizza and give the man a tip big enough to just walk away.

 

Which he started to do, until he did a double-take in Duo’s direction.

 

“Holy shit. Are you-”

 

“Yep. I am. I’m Duo fucking Maxwell.”

 

“Wow.  _ Wow _ . Hey, did you ever-”

 

Trowa shut the door in his face and locked it.

 

Duo returned Diana to the floor.

 

“See? You really want to sign up for this? The fucking pizza delivery guy has opinions about me.”

 

“Good ones,” Trowa had to point out. 

 

“Which is worse than the bad ones. Those kids,” Duo gestured towards the closed door, “they don’t know. They don’t get it. They don’t know who I am or what I did.”

 

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time,” Trowa bit out. “Why would I want to  _ date _ anyone like that?”

 

Duo gave him a long, hard look.

 

“Tro-”

 

“Do you  _ want _ to end this?”

 

“No. Fuck no.”

 

Trowa drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 

“Then stop trying to break up with me. You do it every time we move forward.”

 

“I-” Duo snapped his mouth shut and his cheeks pinked. “Maybe I do.”

 

Trowa snorted.

 

“Maybe, yeah.”

 

Duo didn’t look particularly mollified.

 

Trowa set the pizza down on the table and reached for him.

 

Duo was tense in his arms, shoulders tight and head bowed down.

 

“I like you, Duo. I like dating you. Except for the parts that involve shitty plays or anything involving Avery at all.”

 

Duo snorted a laugh.

 

“Yeah. We could all do with less of those parts.”

 

“I want to date you. I want to be with you. I want to wake up naked in bed with you.”

 

Duo’s lips twitched at the reference.

 

“Yeah, but what if I snore?”

 

Trowa sucked in a breath.

 

“That’s asking a lot.”

 

Duo glared at him, and Trowa leaned down to kiss him.

 

He tried his best to convey just how much he  _ wanted _ Duo, how much just the taste and feel of Duo made the world  _ better _ .

 

By the time he pulled away, the pizza had been entirely forgotten and both of them were hard again.

 

“You know, we’re never going to get to that naked in bed part if we don’t get naked and get  _ in _ bed,” Duo pointed out.

 

Trowa grabbed the lube with one hand and Duo with the other.

  
  


-0-

 

The End?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
